Teddy Lupin-19 Years Later
by Imaginative-fan-over-books
Summary: Teddy Lupin is facing the truth of his identity after his encounter with Trelawney, and the Harry Potter fiasco is about to replay in more blurred ways than before...
1. Teddy Lupin

**This story is not in any way approved by J.K Rowling and I have indeed incorporated numerous of her characters that are found in the last chapter of the 'Deathly Hallows', however I've made up some of my own too**

**I am a massive Harry Potter fan which is the main reason that I wrote this, and also because I love writing and I've wanted to write something on 19 years later for a long time**

**This is not based on 19 years later, it is somewhat earlier and I've modified the ages…also I'm skipping most of the romance here but still incorporating some so as to not ruin J.K Rowling's intentions displayed in the last chapter**

**Please give me some reviews!**

He could feel something odd brushing up against his legs, something with a peculiar tinge to it. His nose scrunched up in disgust, and glancing down at what had troubled him he saw only a frail cat, with odd patches of fur sticking up stock still. But what scared him the most were those penetrating eyes, so intense, so gripping, so frail…in fact he was lured in to a point where he could feel himself being overwhelmed into that emerald green eye, ready to be consumed into oblivion-

"Teddy! Watch where you're stepping, will you?" the sound of his grandmother's penetrating voice brought Teddy Lupin abruptly back into reality, back into the over protective control of his gran. "Honestly Teddy, I would've thought you'd pay more attention at your attire, now that I realise _what_ exactly you are wearing." Teddy stared dismally into his grandmother's eyes, sharp yet full of misery that time has done no patching up to. He knew he was being an contravene twit, trying to add more pressure to his gran when he knew that he was the only living family she has left; more correctly, the only one that she actually has some fonding towards.

Today was no different. They were passing the park again, ready to venture to the overcrowded bus stop to see equally miserised Ms Trelawny, to hear another one of her nonsense predictions again. This routine occurred every Sunday, whenever Teddy was freed of school and wished to join in with the parkour that the boys next door conducted each Sunday, and with much groaning he was pulled to drag along, for whichever reason he had no idea in.

"First day of Autumn, Teddy. I'd like to plant some ma-, I mean, Mulberry trees. Wouldn't that be a better approach than that barren backyard we have, lying there and being a good for nothing? " The silence that followed made Teddy remember that he was supposed to respond back, with a civil tongue that included no slang and got straight to the point; his gran's definition. "Yeah, lovely." His gran stared wistfully at Teddy, and remembered instinctively how much his behaviour represented her sister, Bellatrix. Both were reserved in their own busy thoughts for much of the time, and both were more suited to adventure and rowdiness. Both could not sit still, for that matter.

On approaching the bus stop, his gran managed to show some strange charm that made the other passengers automatically create a devised path for her, some even making a move to bow their heads in respect. Teddy always lowered his head for the shamefulness in this all, and had smartly, this time, brought a cap to hide both his scarlet face and also his protruding bubble gum blue hair.

Along the way, the usual loud pop music coming from the radio was instead switched to the classical station, as usual when his gran was aboard. This triggered Teddy's sudden realisation that something was strangely peculiar, if it happened more than twice. By the looks of it, it had happened more than years. And even stranger were his gran's friends, like the Potter's and the Weasley's. Each family owned highly peculiar houses, more spacious than imagined when seen on the outside, and those suspicious photographs on the mantelpieces; he could swear they were moving on multiple occasions. This brought him back to last Christmas celebration at the Potter's:

He was squashed between his gran and Rose, the Weasley's first child. The red locks kept on brushing against Teddy's face and making him feel highly uncomfortable, and his gran's sweater itched his cheek. He remembered making multiple excuses to the bathroom during dinner, to escape the uncomfiness and the dreadful heat. On one time that he ventured back into the dining room with a portrait of a man with a sharp beak like nose and stringy black hair, he heard the following conversation:

"Teddy, he doesn't know yet, does he?" This was definitely his Uncle Harry.

"No, he's too young. I'll tell him when the time comes. For now, he isn't to know." This was his gran, with the high pitched squeak in her voice.

"Well, he has to know someday. Rose here and James know already, and I'm pretty sure Albus does too. He has to know that he's a wi-" This unfinished comment by Uncle Ron was cut by a sharp warning from his gran.

"Shush! He might hear!"

And indeed Teddy did. For that whole evening, his mind was constantly swivelling around that suspicious conversation, about him being a something or the other. As usual, Rose, the tattle tale, was his first target.

He remembered going to Rose while the adults were feasting on whisky and slices of gourmet (to Teddy, head aching) cheese.

"Rosie, tell me something."

Rose, as usual, out of sheer curiosity came skipping over. Her freckles were still vividly in Teddy's mind, multiplying by each time that he sees her.

"Yeah?"

"What did they say about me, me being a wi or something?"

"Who?" Teddy could remember seeing Rose's face paling with fear of revealing something that she wasn't supposed to reveal.

"The adults. You know, your father and Uncle Harry."

"They said nothing. I mean, they said stuff like the chicken your gran made was excellent, and that, that, um…"

"Um…?"prompted Teddy. He was clever in these ways of getting things that he wants out of people, and Rose was simply too easy.

"They said…you mustn't tell, Teddy! Promise on Bertie's every flavour beans!"

Teddy was unclear about what _exactly_ Bertie's every flavour beans were, but made a motion of crossing his heart anyway.

Rose had taken a deep breath before whispering in Teddy's ear: "You're a wizard!" before screaming and running away again.

Coming back to reality, Teddy thought what rubbish Rose was telling him. A wizard, out of all lies, _a wizard_. Honestly, he couldn't believe how childish Rose can be at times.

"Teddy, our stop is approaching. Tie up those shoe laces! And hurry up too! This dreadful symphony is knives to my ear; can't believe how they got elected for the Gold Audrey Prize. Hurry will you?"


	2. Trelawney's Prediction

By walking down the lane with the low hanging branches and then venturing into a street alley that desperately needs urgent repair, Grunven Avenue would be approached. This is the exact path that Teddy and his gran takes after ambling out from the bus, towards the thatched house of Sybill Trelawney.

Teddy could always sense a strange feeling of being watched and examined like a lab mouse whenever he stepped upon the threshold of Ms Trelawney's, and that feeling never seemed to leave him during the visit or seemed to fade away after years of trooping into the same dismal living room. His gran, however, always appeared to enjoy the interviews, and would start lecturing nonsense at Teddy, such as the 'Eye' or whatever rubbish that Trelawney presents his gran with. Not that his gran accepts things easily; she is always known to take the correct and wise path, and conduct procedures only when the full impact of it was of knowledge to her…strange really, how she acknowledges Trelawney's words even though it's pathetic to almost all other people.

Walking down the alley Teddy saw a group of boys, each looking like they were learning parkour. The youngest looked around the same age as himself, and they looked like a group that Teddy would want to be friends with…sadly he isn't able to do anything with his gran walking briskly right alongside him. "Those boys! You'd better keep your distance from that lot. I don't like the look of them, all rowdy and quite obviously school waggers." Teddy wanted to open his mouth to reproach back, but in time thought better of it.

"Going to that old witch again, are you?" Teddy saw that it was one of the boys, who looked a few years older. "Yeah, kinda have to. Friend and that." He could almost feel his gran glaring daggers down at him, it was that fierce and Teddy knew without looking. The boy, now that Teddy peered closer, had a friendly look about him, even though he knew most people like his gran would take no time to spot things like that. Her judgements would've been made immediately on the knowledge that this bunch lived in the most povertised area in the country and each looked like they were jumping fences, ready to rob houses or somewhat in her mind. But Teddy knew better.

"You live round here?" the boy asked, this time showing a grin as he spoke.

"Not really, like two kilos away, 'spose. We can hang out some day, I'll teach you guys some other parkour tricks next time we meet." Now he was really getting on his gran's nerve, and he knew he should've just ended the conversation a minute ago, but he just couldn't keep his mouth shut for long enough.

"Sounds cool!"

"I-"

"Actually, my grandson here has an appointment elsewhere, thank you very much. And I would highly appreciate it if you two could end your conversation before we're late. "

Teddy cheeks flamed red. He meekly gave the boy a smile before trudging again next to his gran, whose face now appeared white as a hospital bed. Teddy decided to keep his mouth permanently closed, to be on the safe side of his gran, but he knew he was going to be harshly lectured again, for going against his gran's rules and regulations about being wary when approached with strangers, and especially those who have a funny air about them, and keeping a civil tongue, and no dawdling…

"Teddy, I must say but the behaviour that you have displayed earlier troubles me immensely. For one thing it shows your inability to follow my expectations that I have given to you, and for another we are positively late. 10 minutes late, by the looks of it. What have you got to say to this, Teddy Lupin?"

Teddy felt the instinct to mentally roll his eyes, but remembered how much trouble he had already inflicted upon his gran and instead mumbled out: "Sorry." He could see his gran's cheeks regaining some colour yet albeit this no more conversation was exchanged between them, much to the relief of Teddy.

Until they reached the low swamp of houses where the one leaning tower stands out the most, like a butterfly placed between moths did Teddy feel misery again. The walk towards that exotic house felt like walking on the moon, each step a harder challenge to take than the other, and each breath harder to inhale in. This was because, as Teddy had discovered at the age of somewhat 4, tea leaf plantation was set onto this very piece of land, for some strange industry eager to have tea leaves grow on a barren piece of land where hardly any light ever falls upon. Now that he thought about it, no industry would be _that_ stupid. So there must be something else behind it…

 _Meowwwww_ …

"My dear Andromeda!"

"My dear Sybill!"

A woman late into her sixties poked her head through a gap between the doors, decorated with layers of ads after ads from the same tea industry, something M Tea Company. The earrings dangling from her ears were composed of strangely curved shells, and seemed too heavy an object for her ear holes. They looked stretched to a grimacing length that always makes Teddy wonder how her ears bear with it.

Her entire attire would look remote to even the most multicultural community, with scarves and a billowing dress pinched with laundry clips at either side, making her hips appear awkward. And also those weird slippers, too wide at one end and too pointy at the other, however her feet possibly fits in that. All in all, Teddy never gets used to seeing Ms Trelawney, and holds some distance from her at all times, perhaps because of her over the top eccentricity and that nauseating smell that always occupies her.

Holding hands earnestly, the ladies sat themselves facing each other on comfy chairs, each, out of routine, taking a long drowse of tea before examining the tendrils.

"Sit down, young Edward!" Ms Trelawney is forever the only person to call Teddy by his full name; even his gran profuses to do so, and she owns a definite air of royalty and generally receives a lot of respect.

"Have you inspected the news lately, my dear Andromeda?"

Teddy gave a stiff yawn. He could usually quite easily zone out, but today his brain was refusing to do so, as if telling him he should listen for once.

"Yes, I have Sybill."

"Then you must have remembered the exact, and I mean _exact_ news that had appeared on the 12th of June copy of the Daily Prophet, must you not?"

Teddy thought how spangled this Trelawney must be to ask such a question. Well of course no one can remember the _exact_ news, so why bother to ask it? His gran's voice stood out alarmingly clear in his mind: _I like people that get straight the point, without any fluffing up or what nonsense_ and he did a small upwards movement of his lips.

"Was it the issue on, ah, the Women's Quidditch World Cup drawing closer?"

Trelawney gave a timid nod of her head, and beckoned for Andromeda to keep on going.

"And also, if I remember, the eleven new magical herbs that Bront Yortvenne discovered in Scotland?"

Again Trelawney nodded.

"And also, the introduction of robes with the addition of hoods installed-"

Before Teddy's gran could finish her sentence, Trelawney jumped up and practically screamed the living daylights of both Teddy and his gran, most probably scaring all the neighbours living up to 5 kilometres away too.

"YES! And what is that of an indication, my dear Andromeda?"

Teddy of course understood none of this; he had no idea of 'Quidditch' or 'Bront Yortvenne' or 'robes with hoods', and a lot of other things that had mystified him since the start of his meetings with Trelawney.

He could see his gran trying to interpret through the numerous books she had read about fortune telling and trying to compose a suitable phrase to calm Trelawney's eagerness.

"The eradication of fortune that profounds negative consequences upon its founder, and also the indication of another full moon in-"

Trelawney's eyes suddenly widened in her insect glasses, and she stood gingerly up, eyes widening all the still as she did so.

"No, my dear Andromeda." Her voice became frighteningly soft, and her cheeks flared up a different complexion, a situation that Teddy or his gran had never came upon before.

"No, this is the indication of a bad recurrence, a recurrence of similarity so strong that I have never foreseen it before. Someone will be gifted by the omen of a life that follows closely to represent the life of another wizard or witch born on the same month and the on the exact same day, and bad signs of evil is looming closer as we speak."


	3. Everything unveiled

"But then who is this reborn evil?"

"It is not up to us to know the Who, my dear Andromeda. However it is associated with the prophecy made-"

"About a reborn evil trying to ruin its destroyer?"

"Yes, precisely so. Except the signs are stronger. I am almost certain that it will happen."

Teddy stared at the ladies, each in their own thoughts and each looking more confused than the other. The strong tea smell was getting on his nerves now; he hated it how Trelawney always uses dandelion tea…but shouldn't the cups be emptied now? Teddy leaned forwards in his seat, and saw to his utter surprise that there were two steaming cups of tea sitting in the exact same spot the ladies had left it, with tea brimming to the top and fumes spiralling out. This made Teddy suddenly realise that there must be another presence in the room…

"Gran, I mean, Ms Trelawney?" Teddy asked, his body shaking.

Ms Trelawney gave a stiff nod of her head, thinking as she did so.

"Er, is there anyone else in the house apart from you?"

"Teddy, what sort of ridiculous question is that? Of course there is!"

Teddy felt his face going pale.

"You and I. Honestly Teddy, your face is turning all pale like you've seen a ghost!"

 _Perhaps I did,_ Teddy thought. This spiral of events and sudden realisations made him feel extremely feverish, and was simply too much for him to grasp. Knowledge was good, but only if the knowledge was able to be handled. This was too much for him; he had to know what is going on and what his gran had been hiding from him. Suddenly Rose's words didn't seem so childish anymore, in fact, in a way, it made some sense or another.

But then it all clicked in! That book that he had read during the winter vacation when his gran made him stay inside from the cold, even though he had desperately wanted to join in with the snow fight in his neighbourhood…it was about the appropriate attire a 'Witch or Wizard' should wear in certain occasions…and surely he had read in it somewhere about 'Quidditch'…Now that he went searching through his mind, he realised that he had, and he could strangely remember every word of that paragraph, even though he swears he was half asleep then when he had read it:

 _Quidditch World Cup is an occasion where the attire must be acknowledged with some consideration. Why, apart from the festivities that gives you ear aches all week you would realise that everyone there (mostly) is dressed to impress. Witches should wear their finest robes, fitted with the season, which just so happens to be dramatic autumn. Emerald green is a must, and a nice grey sweater will put you into the gaze of many single wizards._

And also that newspaper that his gran gets delivered, called the Daily Prophet...he knew he had encountered numerous articles on 'Muggles' and 'Gringotts', a regular topic of Ms Trelawney…so why had it only occurred to him now? If he had a clear mind as he was equipped with today, he would've realised his true identity years ago!

"Gran!"

His gran looked a Teddy, whose whole body was shaking will somewhat excitement and also anger. She took some moment to absorb this all in, before finally opening her mouth:

"Yes?"

Teddy couldn't contain it in himself for any longer, and practically appeared just as spangled as Trelawney at that moment. Everything was clear to him, after years of having the truth being covered up from him, after years of puzzling over his abnormal blue hair…

"I'm a wizard, aren't I?"

This question was left unanswered for some time, and Teddy could see his gran's face paling again and her own body beginning to shake.

"Well of course you are, young Edward! You were since the day you were born."

Trelawney stared with innocence at Teddy, before looking down at Andromeda, who appeared to have stopped functioning completely. Although Trelawney appears to have no clear mind at all, in reality she owns a clearer mind than anyone else. This was the unique trait that any descendant from a Seeker would own, but most of them had wisely kept it hidden so as to not attract any evil doers from coming near. Sybill understood since the first day she had met Andromeda and Teddy together that they did not get along well, in the fact of Andromeda's over protection. She knew from the moment that she saw the news on robes that the person it was referred to was none other than Rodolphus Lestrange, who had lost his wife because of her full support towards Lord Voldemort. She knew that he was living in the feed of revenge and had quietly, through the course of Voldemort's downfall, gathered himself a group of _friends_ that he hoped would help to bring down the Dark Lord's full presence. She also knew that he was fierce and cold hearted, and would take no pity towards anyone, even his followers whom he had held suspicion towards since the start of their meetings. None of this, however, did Sybill reveal further to either Andromeda or Teddy. She had her own way of doing things, and knew that they would realise it one day.

"You lied to me, all along!" Teddy felt himself having the urge to smash something in half, and those porcelain cups were looking extremely attractive to him. His hand went to grip the handle of the pink teacup, siting the closest to him, but to his surprise Trelawney went screaming again, hands flapping in the air.

"Leave that pink tea cup, young Edward! I am quite fond of those, please grab a blue one instead!"

But Teddy had no intention to do so anymore, he felt ashamed to blame so much on his gran when he knew she was just trying to protect him. Protect him against what though?

"Why hide it from me?" he asked, his voice slowly returning back to normal.

Andromeda felt like a deflated balloon inside, all the work that she had done and now…still she knew she had to tell him, she can't keep on lying anymore and she can't keep on hiding things away from him anymore. Everything is just getting more and more obvious…sooner or later he would find out.

"Teddy, I had to." This sounded pathetic to even Andromeda herself.

"Why though? Nothing has a 'had to' to it if there isn't a specific reason that aggravated you to make that decision!"

Andromeda gulped. She knew she was being an absolute cow but the truth was so hard to come out from her mouth.

"Teddy, your parents were killed because of magic. My sisters turned evil because of magic. My nephew was killed too because of magic…my husband was also killed because of magic. Teddy, you must understand that I did this only because I was scared that I'll lose you too, and you are my only living family I have left…please Teddy, understand this!"

But Teddy did not. He knew that his parents had died, but he didn't know that it was because of magic…he should have had the privilege to know this, they were his parents!

"But how does that mean that hiding magic away from me will solve the problem?"

"I…I don't know."

"Listen. They didn't die because of magic, they died because they wanted to make the world a better place to live in for everyone else; they died because they were courageous and not cowardly, unlike what you are by hiding things away from me!"

**Can anyone tell me the age difference between Rose and Teddy?**


	4. The Prophecy

_July 14_ _th_

 _The weather is hot…burning hot. My mouth feels like it's on fire - no matter how many glasses of water I drink it just doesn't scorch down the flames. I've had a horrible headache for weeks now, and gran is still, STILL, ignoring me. Really quite depressing, since she is, like usual, banishing me from putting a toe outside the house (so she's my only company)…had I mentioned that the house doesn't have an air con either?_

Teddy stared at the lined margin of his grade 3 jotter, currently his diary to keep him occupied for the dreary holidays. No parkour, no friends, no nothing. How _nice_.

He could distinctively smell his gran making yet another pot of sauerkraut, adding the zingy lemon and chilli and whatever else that makes the cabbage taste revolting and stick its sickly taste into his mouth for at least a week…and then he'd have to endure through eating sauerkraut everything until his gran decided that they'd better be _nice_ and send some to the Potter's and Weasley's…like they'll eat it.

"Gran?" Teddy knew that his gran would simply pretend that she hadn't heard him, or turn the classical station up ten bars, but he was bored today, and also slightly annoyed at his gran's refusal to communicate to him with anything other than a 'humph' for the past month or so.

No response.

With a loud groan, Teddy fell back onto the couch he was sitting on and decided dismally that this holiday is turning out to be far more dreadful than what he had first imagined.

Two weeks later, Teddy saw that his gran was looking extremely uncomfortable about something. Her forehead was decorated with multiple lines of wrinkles and her eyes were looking distant…he suspected that it had something to do with that mysterious letter she had received that morning with the post.

Although he never got a proper look at its contents, he could remember seeing a flight of owls sitting most peculiarly outside on the weather worn scarecrow, each smoothing down their elegant feathers of a multitude of browns and whites earlier at breakfast, half in his own thoughts while the other listening to the ear aching pierce the radio was emitting. He had seen through the windows his gran walking swiftly out, one hand enclosed upon a broom handle and moving it rapidly around, trying to shoo the birds away. But then as she got closer, Teddy could see his gran slowing her pace and dropping the broom with a crash onto the pile of tomato plants, squashing nearly a row of them rather neatly. Her high pitched screeching stopped, and she, most astoundingly, went and took a swift pat of one of the tawny owls, before retreating back into the house with a slam of the door - what drove the owls away in less than a second.

He knew that that letter had probably had no connection with the scatter of owls, but he knew that something particularly odd had something to associate with it, that was for sure. Now that he noticed his gran's fingers trembling while slowly slicing away the bold crest, he walked quietly into the hallway linking towards the living room and tried to forestall his hurried breathing.

He could see perspiration on his gran's nose when the sun shone down upon the foreboding letter, showing his gran's facial details into stark relief. He felt himself feeling jittery too, and managed to stop himself from screaming hysterically and snatching the letter to calm his curiosity just in time, with a quick bite of his cheeks. But he felt like he had to know this…something told him that he should go and confront his gran…he felt his instinct getting the better of him, and before he knew it he was standing on the carpet of the living room, ready to take the last two steps towards his gran, who was really getting on his nerves now.

"Gran?" He could feel his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Humph?" His gran gave a timid response, brows knitted all the still as she did so.

"What's the letter for?" There came no immediate response, and everything became frozen in time until Teddy saw his gran taking out the letter and opening it up with a crisp folding up sound.

"Read it. No, actually don't Teddy. I'll tell you it…and apologies for my behaviour towards you all month…I think you can understand how much of a shock it came towards me, more so to you…about, about, you being a -"

"Wizard?" His gran gave a slight nod of her head, before folding the letter abruptly away, not without Teddy catching a glimpse of the words _Dear Mr Lupin_ scratched in ink on the top of the cream coloured page.

"But you already know that! I mean, you knew since I was born, didn't you? So how does that come as a surprise? Really, I'm quite baffled at all the information you've hidden away from me all this time…and after that Trelawney fiasco you wouldn't breathe a word to me. And now you're saying sorry! Pathetic."

Teddy knew he was being outrageously rude, but he had had enough with his gran. He wished he had parents who would actually take some care towards him and actually, most importantly, tell him the truth, not a bunch of cover up lies that in the end would make him lose complete truth with them…he's had enough.

"Tell me!" Still his gran sat there motionless, before giving out a mumble of undefinable words.

"Pardon? Speak up will you!" Impatience was getting the better of Teddy, one of his worst traits that had forbidden him from completing tasks properly and learning the piano for longer than a minute. He noticed the continued shaking of his gran, getting stronger and stronger the more she dawdled…it looked like she might topple over if he didn't rest his hands onto her shoulder's to steady her. Now that he did, memories of laying cuddled in his gran's reassuring arms came back into his mind, the soft lullabies that rocked him into slumber and the hugs he had received in those very arms when he had fallen over or had been teased for his hair. He felt himself going numb and realising how horrid he was being, none of this were her fault…she was only trying to be protective…but why?

"Tell me why, gran."

His gran stared at him with her grey and forlorn eyes, meeting Teddy's brown ones. She knew that Teddy was slowly growing up into the man his parents had dreamed of him becoming…and if the prophecies were true then he is…with much danger and risk to his life too…

"Teddy…I'll tell you everything I had endured and thought through since meeting Trelawney, 10 years ago at Diagon Alley." Upon seeing the amused face of her grandson, Andromeda gave a slight smile, one that was returned with a smile that radiated with happiness, one she hadn't seen for ages or for ever.

"I saw Trelawney at the Dragon Parlour, one that was always filled to the brim with suspicious magic folk who feasted upon whisky instead of food, which was all the well since the food at Dragon Parlour is absolutely revolting…like-"

"Like sauerkraut revolting?" Teddy realised after he had spoken it how stark he was being, and added an abrupt "Sorry" at the end.

"Oh Teddy, you should've told me! I thought you enjoyed it, how you always wolf, I mean, eat it down so quickly! Frankly, I'd prefer eating Benz's chocolate than that mush, and you know I absolutely hate Benz's over the top sweet cocoa nonsense!"

Teddy grinned. They were finally having a proper conversation that didn't have him thinking twice before he opened his mouth, and finally they were getting along like a house on fire.

"Anyway Teddy, the food is indeed sauerkraut revolting-"began his gran once again, flashing a faint smile at Teddy as she did so, "and I'll be pleased to tell you that I'd never step into that horrid place ever again, with those hags hovering alarmingly close around you…and I did give the Ministry a good reproach on the Dragon Parlour's security problems soon after that. But, the reason I came there was simple. I had to speak to Old Greyard up at the counter about the bottle of supposedly _fine_ wine I had brought at Taint's & Brown's, which apparently was manufactured there by Greyard himself. I'll skip the unnecessary accusing I had with him, that filthy old scoundrel, and instead let me tell you how I saw Trelawney."

Teddy didn't mind the unusual waffling his gran was telling him; in fact on some levels he found it rather amusing…perhaps because he hadn't heard a proper human voice (apart from the dreadful symphonies he had to hear every breakfast) in quite some while.

"As I was yelling at Greyard, Trelawney came ambling to the counter, I believe wanting to buy a sandwich. She came up and saw the argument going on, and dear her she ended the arousing just before I was ready to smash the bottle over Greyard's head in his pretending of not being able to hear me properly, the hag! Nevertheless, I was immediately grateful towards Trelawney, and offered her a cup of tea down at The Witch's Hat, albeit thinking about how peculiar her clothes were…but we cannot judge a person solely by their appearance, now can we, Teddy?"

Teddy shook his head and for once did not drowse off or roll his eyes.

"But Trelawney refused. She said that the atmosphere at the Dragon Parlour was cheering her up from the dismal news she had seen the previous night through the constellations, and pointedly I asked whatever was bothering her to come to Dragon Parlour. She had stationed me at a table free from hags, and leaned in to me and spoke in a barely audible voice…a prophecy…"

His gran stopped and became silent again, hands clamped tightly onto the letter and staring all the while at Teddy as she did so. _So young, and having to deal with such soul destroying news…but I cannot hide it from him anymore…he ought and must know…_

"Teddy…she said that there will be another danger that will spark the same distraught as what its predecessor had created beforehand, and only the Chosen one will be able to destroy this reborn evil or be destroyed. She said somewhat like what she had told us last meeting…however this time it was more specific." Andromeda paused and tried to control back her tears, and rocked back and forth to control herself.

"Teddy…she actually said a name."


	5. Decisions made

Teddy's face paled. He held his breath, fearing the worst to come, and suddenly he felt rather lofty in the brain and ice cold sweat began slowly forming on his skin… _it couldn't happen, it couldn't happen, it couldn't-_

"She said Rose Weasley was the one who will defeat this evil." Teddy gave a sigh of relief. So it wasn't him after all…but how does this explain anything towards his gran's refusal to tell him the truth about his identity?

"But-" his gran cut across before Teddy could open his mouth to reproach back, and now tears were sliding down his gran's face and landing splattered on her dress like ink marks left on a piece of parchment when the quill stays for too long.

"Oh Teddy…how can I possibly tell you this?" Teddy could see his gran losing her strong will and collapsing down from her own emotions getting the better of her, and with a sympathic pang he again enclosed his hands upon her shoulders, trying to tell her without words that he would be able to understand. Again this was a trait that Teddy owned, one that would allow him to show his care towards others without any communication, only through a matter of small gestures or upwards movement of his lips. And also one that made him rather popular and easy going.

"Teddy-" his gran put a weak hand upon Teddy's sturdy ones, and trembling she gasped out between breaths the words that she had kept to herself for 10 miserable years, with that monster gnawing at her insides and forbidding her from doing anything without causing a sharp pain inside her head.

"The prophecy although indi-indicated Rose Weasley, how-however it only meant that she was to-to finish the evil, not that she is the one that is meant to be." Andromeda gave a sharp cough and managed to control herself from further hiccupping, not without a paler complexion than before.

"You must understand, Teddy, that prophecies always have a twist to it, no matter how straight forwards it might seem. And I realised that when Trelawney told me it, and immediately asked her what was the 'but' to this remark. Oh Teddy…her face was dreadful!" Andromeda took a look at the interested expression on her grandson's usually motion less face before proceeding, controlling herself as she did so.

"Her eyes seemed to roll itself inside out, and when it did the other side flashed violently green and her mouth began stitching itself closed to form this thin line, and that horrible voice coming from those sealed lips terrified me for days. I had never endured such a thing before…absolutely dreadful. Nevertheless, she told me clear enough about the 'but', enough for me to make this decision of steering you away from magic that I hope you may understand if I am allowed to explain it to you…"

"You had my full permission eons ago."

"Teddy…she told me that you were the one destined to defeat the evil, however you would be not the one who will in the end destroy it of its soul. You would be not its target, however it owns no real target. You will be not present to be able to defeat it…Rose will be the one at the end to…however the events are pointed towards you…you will have a life similar to that of Harry Potter's, and no matter how hard I have tried to change it nothing works. I know and understand that this prophecy is true to its words…or so I believe."

Teddy felt a sinking feeling in his heart, despite not being able to fully interpret things properly he knew that his gran was indicating something towards him…something that would traumatise him and make him regret his passionate ideas towards being a wizard.

"My dear boy! I have thought it through soon after the prophecy, and concluded that it is true to its words. Your parents died for the protection of you, Harry's parents fleetingly did too. I have admitted to my cowardly cover up of magic, so has the horrid relatives of Harry's. You also own the same birthday as Harry's, July the 31st…yet because of this it starkingly admits that you may die during your expected expedition to fight off the newborn evil…something that if you must understand I had to do. I don't want you to die, my dear Teddy…you are my only living love left and without you my world will be completely not worth living…I would've been gone now if it wasn't for you!"

"But why me?" Teddy felt his vision going blurry and his head emitting a horrible headache. This was too much for him to be able to sink in. A prophecy to die when you're only nearly 11 years old… _way_ over the consumable limit for anyone.

"Oh how I wish that it could be anyone else, Teddy! I'd wish that it was me if I could! But prophecies are strange, Teddy. The most peculiar and least looked upon works of magic, because of its unexplainable statements that to most people seem like rubbish. I believe that during the Great Battle, the year that you were dismally born in there was a lot of confusion going on and people falling for fake prophecies, adding to its bad reputation. But I'd believe Trelawney…oh she had predicted the prophecy that indeed followed its words on Harry…and I've also followed my instincts and trusted her with my life."

"Gran, if I am going to go with what you told me then shouldn't there be a 'but' to that too? That is indeed another prophecy made by Trelawney but then shouldn't there be also another twist to it?"

Andromeda pursed her lips. Now that she thought about it, there indeed is one.

"Actually-"

"No, I think I have some idea. I believe that the prophecy states things unclearly. If you had thought about it…I am simply _not_ there to kill off the evil, not that I will necessarily die. Perhaps…I might be somewhere else at that time, or-"

"Teddy, I had thought about that too. But in the case that you, you do die…I had to keep you away from magic, Teddy! No, you are certainly not going to Hogwarts, being a squib will secure your life and your life is more precious than anything!"

Teddy stared at this gran. She was again revealing something that she had covered up for him until now…

"What is _Hogwarts_?"

Andromeda stared at Teddy, and deciding the best she remarked, "Oh you need not know." before realising that of course Teddy would want to know, with curiosity standing more important than anything else.

"Tell me!"

"Teddy, Hogwarts is most probably the greatest school in the magic world, and is as far as I am concerned the only school devised for children with magic in the whole of England. And the greatest wizards and witches are all brought up there…but I don't and am strongly against you taking any risk of going to that school. In fact if Harry Potter had not gone there he would be living a perfectly normal life now, without having to, to, rouse up Voldemort and make your parents and my husband die!"

Teddy stared in disbelief at his gran. How could she possibly cower away when the prophecy indicated for him to destroy this evil? How could she possibly think such a thing?

"Gran, I'm going." He could see his gran staring at him in utter surprise and the colour draining from her tear stained face.

"But surely not."

"Oh I am going, gran. If I need to destroy this evil and perhaps risk my life, in the meaning that I could secure the life of millions of others, then I'm going."

"Teddy…"

"Gran, let me risk my life for once! I'm sick of always being stuck in your protection, not being able to do this and that because it is apparently _dangerous_. Let me take some risk for once!"

"I do let you take, take some _risk_ , Teddy, and you know that-"

"If you believe hiding away in the house for the much of summer and winter holidays taking some risk, then going to school is like committing murder. Honestly, will you stop for once?!"

Teddy felt that he could finally spill out the thoughts that he had kept to himself for since he could remember…always being asked questions at school about why he wasn't there at this event and why he wasn't at that…didn't she know that for the years before now he had had no friends and was always being teased at school about what a 'suss' he was? Didn't she know that because of her he was forced to turn so rowdy?

Andromeda had nothing to say for once. She felt herself suddenly having cold water dumped over her head, this water refreshing her of her unconscious mind and giving her the sudden realisation that Teddy had indeed chosen the right path to undertake. What good was it hiding from the truth when the truth is after you? You would always be found one way or another, why not face it boldly instead of cowering away until you are found? _He is a much better person than I am, that is what makes him think like that, always thinking in the sake of others instead of for the sake of himself_.

"Teddy, I believe that it is time I introduced you to Victoire Weasley, who will be in the same year as you at Hogwarts."

**I'm going to modify the ages of the characters introduced in the last chapter of the 'Deathly Hallows', just because otherwise this fanfic will not go according to my story plan, and yes, I've asked what is the age difference between Rose and Teddy when I realised as soon as I had posted that that I didn't even need to know it…and does anyone realise that Teddy Lupin is 19 years old when he was found 'snogging' Victoire? And then James said that he was the new Hufflepuff House Captain? And also that Nagini is the same snake that Harry had approached with at the Zoo in 'Philosopher's Stone'? **


	6. Meet Mrs Delacour and Victoire

"This, this _house_?" The words came out of Teddy's mouth in utmost bafflement. Throughout all his life (which is extremely short compared to others) he had never before encountered such a monument, such a masterpiece that ought to be in display at a museum, such a house that managed to corporate the very scenery into the complex structure of the house… _my lord_!

His gran gave a timid nod of her head, before proceeding up the great steep of the hill that lead to the magnificent tower that towered above their heads; one acting as if she had treaded the same path multiple times while the other gaping speechless and eyes opened as wide as saucers. However, the building was indeed magnificent. It was a tall fortress that was decorated with layers of smooth marble on the outside, the veins cracked into the hard surface and glistening under the boil of the sun. A swirl of polished silver ran from the top all the way to the ground, strangely in pristine condition albeit this part of the country always experience the heaviest downpours, which would surely have created definable glints of rust by now, if not had manifested the whole thing. Oval windows were sculpted in multiple sides and heights of the circular tower, which were painted most intricately with pictures of birds chirping and the after effects of a light drizzle. Albeit the top of the house stretched further and further away from their sight the closer they walked towards the welcoming front door, glimpses of the illuminated torrent can be still spotted behind the clumps of wispy clouds. An absolute marvel to look at, refreshing to the eyes especially with the churns and loud splashes that erupted in the background, the waves contemplating the most magnificent clear blue colour.

 _Whoever lives here must be some kind of royal, a cottage my foot!_ Teddy paused a moment longer than necessary before gripping the thick rope and giving it a swing, emitting a clang after clang of deafening noise that made his gran wince.

"Now Teddy, as I have told you before, this is the property of the Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Delacour, and is therefore not of yours to remark at and certainly not to vandalise at. I wouldn't put it past you to etch nonsense on their walls, your friends being the lot they are and-"

"Oh hello my dear Fleur, how is the renovation going? I can see that so far the effects are wonderful, dazzling in fact, with the marble slabs! Is Bill here, or off to the Ministry again?" With this his gran gave a wink that didn't work well at all with her wrinkled face; it only made her look as if she has got a seizure of some sort. However Teddy wasn't concentrating on his gran's nauseating expression, rather he had his full concentration on the woman standing in wraths of silk and with blonde hair neatly flowing in strands down from her eloquent bun, standing with a broad smile plastered across her pale complexion. She was beautiful, as beautiful as the house itself, far more beautiful than the fashion models making grotesque actions and wearing unbearable attires…Teddy wished that his mother was as beautiful as this.

"Ai, Bill is at ze Ministry, and zankyou for your compliments, Andromeda! And zis," Mrs. Delacour lowered her head as she said this, so that she could properly examine Teddy before she spoke another word, "must be Zeddy, is it not?"

"Yes Fleur, quite right this is Teddy, Teddy Lupin. Now where are your manners, Teddy? Have I not taught you enough times to say a polite greeting when you meet someone?"

To this Teddy muttered with flamed cheeks a brief 'Hello', eyes still glued at the lady standing in an inquiring way at the door. Although this didn't please his gran at all, he was too hot in the neck to be able to have a clear mind, and without another word the conflicting pair entered the luxury of the Weasley's house.

"Sit down, sit down. Ah, vere is Victorie? She is usually 'ere, unless she vent outside…I'll call her, she is extremely shy 'ough!" And with a swish of her dress Mrs. Delacour was off, leaving a trail of flowery perfume wafting in the air and leaving an uncomfortable silence behind, to which Teddy held great discomfort at what his gran might proclaim next.

"Teddy, I could honestly see that you like that woman! By good lord your cheeks were red and your forehead was covered with sweat, you despicable thing! Let me tell you but this great fluff of a girl is not nearly as admirable as your mother, for she stood in the sidelines for most of the time trying to shed a tear or two while your mother casted spells and risked her own life for you, Teddy! You should never, _never_ judge a woman by her looks, more so you should judge them by their bravery and strength and courage to fight for the good…placing other people before them and setting themselves always second for the greater good! I am honestly ashamed at-"

"Oh, hello again Fleur! And my my but is this lovely young girl Victoire! You look so very similar to you sweet mother here! Teddy," Gran glared at Teddy and beckoned towards Victoire, in which on sight Teddy made a gagging motion in his head but still managed to, between disturbing noises gasp out a weak "Hi".

"Oh, I see zey are ze perfect pair! Victoire, say 'Hello' vill you?"

The girl stared with round eyes and seemed paralysed, her face pale and emotionless. Her whole body began to shake, and without another word she ran up the swirling stairs and swung herself into a room, banging the door behind her with such a force that it made the whole tower tremble. Upon this, Mrs. Delacour gave a weak smile.

"She is quiet, zat's all. Bill and I are vorrying, vat if she doesn't fit in? Vat if she gets depressed? Vat if she misses us and gets upset? But zen Zeddy comes, and ve are all 'appy and glad! Our Victoire vill 'ave a friend, ve say!"

There was another moment of uncomfortable silence, broken by gran with her exclamation of "Why yes, of course they will be!" although displaying an extremely forced smile that Teddy had to wonder how Mrs. Delacour didn't see through immediately. However later on none of this conversation was temporary remembered, or really Victoire either who would at occasional intervals poke her timid head through the door and then, seeing the cohort still sitting in a bemused fashion on the sofas, she would immediately close the door again and continue her isolation from the conversation downstairs, although starkly reminding the group of Victoire's presence.

The conversation between a lady with a feeling of contentment and a lady who exchanged cordial smiles and words with the opposite ended abruptly when the cuckoo clock croaked out a long drawl of 'Cuckoo', indicating 5 o'clock. Teddy woke up from his slumber in a dizzy way and seeing the perfect opportunity for departure his gran arose too and remarked, displaying that smile again that was slowly starting to droop, a polite "I must go now, Fleur! I have to cook dinner for Teddy and I, and I'm planning a nice shepherd's pie - Teddy, pick up your jacket and tie up those shoelaces, so sorry for the inconvenience and bid dear little Victoire goodbye for me, Teddy, hurry up will you!"

His gran went for the door knob and gave a sharp twist, but Fleur stared at this with puzzlement.

"But you are staying for dinner, are you not, Andromeda and Zeddy?"

This abrupt question wafted in the air for quite a while, enough for Andromeda to flush red herself and for Teddy to give emit a groaning sound from his stomach, and also enough for Fleur to give a friendly smile.

"Bill vould be 'ere, and I 'ave prepared roast chicken with thyme and lemon, and also zercle zart…vhy not stay?"

Gran gave let go of her grip on the door knob and weakly muttered, "I guess we should then."

"Good! Bill vould be very 'appy to 'ave people 'ere. Andromeda, do you drink vine?"

"Goodness no, not if I'm going to be walking back home after this."

"Oh no no! Bill vould drive you 'ome, don't vorry! Viskey Andromeda?"

With a sigh Andromeda reluctantly nodded her head and Teddy with a feeling of happiness plumped himself onto the sofa again and contemplated at the delightful dinner he will be receiving, and also most importantly what Mr. Weasley will turn out to be.

All of this stopped Teddy from noticing a menacing eye peering through the window, the shabby coat flapping in the air against the flick of the moon. The pouch he was fingering came loose and with a mutter of 'Drat!' he bent forwards with great difficulty and picked up the objects again, slotting them into the velvet bag while rubbing them carefully with his grease. He peered up again, and saw the lovely view inside lit up with a charming chandelier and heated with hot furnaces positioned in all four corners of the grand living room, then with a feeling of jealousy he retreated away again, just in time before a vehicle came thundering up the hill and stopped right in the position where the man had stood just a moment before, and left not a moment earlier.

He had to leave, the moon was slowly starting to form a round, circular shape.

**I am extremely, _extremely_ sorry for my delay in publishing the next chapter, but I had school work and homework to do and was kept temporarily too busy to even touch my trusty laptop, my companion all throughout the first 6 chapters and will probably stay will me until the end of the whole fanfic, again my apologises, but keep in mind that the next chapter will probably take even longer for me to publish, and also the next…until the middle of June I will have no spare time on my hands and I am sorry for the cliff hangers, actually I'm not because it keeps those people who may not enjoy my writing still reading…anyway, I must say but a shout out of thanks towards all that have put in the effort to read my work and give me a REVIEW! It has made my day and has literally kept me going with the fanfic, along with my friend Emskie Potter, please look at her possible works too and gift her a gift beyond all others – a review! I am also asking those that have bothered to read to the end of this comment to help me come up with ideas of a male/female/trans/gay/whatever other category, I'm all open, and help me choose a name.

Above all, I thank all of you that have supported me, and feel free to tell me where I should improve or simply give me a brief 'Hi' as a review, as long as it is a positive or helpful review I will thank you profusely in my mind and I will hunt down your fanfics and give you a review too…

Although exactly not related, let us remember the words of Dumbledore again:

 _Words are our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it – Albus Dumbledore_ **


	7. Dinner with the Weasley's

"'ere is the chicken, Andromeda, move ze champagne please!"

Gran nudged the glass bottle forwards a bit without leaning any further than necessary, before sinking back into the plush covering and giving a satisfied smile. The rain was howling outside and was pattering hard against the window panes, however apart from the thin lines of water dripping endlessly down the smooth surface nothing else could have indicated a storm, as there was no sound to be heard inside the safe enclosure. The group of people seated around the spacious table were either red in the face from an overdose of alcoholic beverages, or had themselves busy with shoving food into their already bulging mouths. It was at the first crack of lightening (which none of them really noticed apart from the shabby figure seated facing the window) that the conversation began.

Bill tapped impatiently on the smooth oak wood, and with an acknowledging glance his wife beckoned Andromeda with a light nudge on the shoulder. Eyes stared back in a rather amiable way, and hands let go of the wine glasses and the forks with a soft clatter to the faint Beatles music playing in the background.

"I see that everyone has acquainted themselves well with the food and wine," Bill began, and gave a forced smile at his audience who were giving him satisfied looks back.

"And I must saw but we rejoice here at the acknowledgement that Victoire," to which Bill gave a hearty wave of his hand towards the girl who had been, so far, withdrawn from the conversations and had now turned a unique shade of scarlet, "and also Teddy are going to begin their years at Hogwarts this forthcoming September!" Teddy grinned happily and awarded himself with a rather substantial piece of treacle tart, and for once his gran didn't give a glare back in response.

"Cheers, cheers!" Bill began raising his glass, but stopped in time to observe the moon outside. He recalled just how extremely fortunate he was to be spared from turning into a were wolf every full moon, and painfully thought of Remus again and the terrible scream of agony that came from his throat the moment the curse hit him, hard in the chest. Trembling, he pushed the bitter liquid into his dry mouth and tried his best to conceal back the painful tears that burnt his eyes and throbbed his heart…and in solemn return everyone else raised their glasses too and drank the wine (or juice) down their own throats without a single word.

"Bill, vould you like some vater instead? Are you okay vith vine?"

"Ai Fleur dear, I'll be fine just this once. It's a special occasion, we all need our fun, and my goodness but would you look at how much whiskey Andromeda has drank! The monster!"

Andromeda gave a light laugh and as if on cue loaded her glass with yet another bottle of the faint yellow liquid, which made her promptly return back to her childhood life full of late night parties and swigging bottle after bottle of the toxic. Teddy, having satisfied himself quite well with the pompous dinner, began examining Mr. Weasley with some curiosity. He wasn't sure whether this character represented a wolf with a remarkable human similarity, or a human with a bizarrely wolf like appearance. Although one thing was sure to Teddy; he knew from his first encounter with this wolf/human was that he/it was cool. Really cool. Like a ponytail cool and skull earring cool. And by hell he wanted those scars that ran from the corner of the suspecting eye all the way to the corner of the cracked mouth, even though he would have to pay a heavy price for it. The more that he thought about it, the more Teddy realised that this was the family he had yearned for, the one that kept on appearing in his dreams. Well, to be more precise, the female had an odd pink hue over her head and the male didn't have red-orange hair, nevertheless a neat ponytail that trailed to the middle of his back…but-

"Teddy, uh, we must, uh, go home now, uh, no more Fleur, uh, no more please, uh."

"Bill vould send you 'ome, Andromeda. You look very – be careful!" Mrs. Delacour leapt from her chair and quickly helped the frail lady back into her chair, and promptly ran to the kitchen and came back with a cup of water. The lady had really consumed too much alcohol that night, and in consequence had a crooked smile stretched on her face as she lay with her eyes closed, emitting loud hiccups as she lay there. Victoire had disappeared off to her room again without bidding the pair good bye or even good night, and Teddy has resumed back to eating the treacle tart with satisfaction. Bill resided to a seat next to the window and was engulfed in his own busy thoughts, while Fleur rushed around like a bird and brought pills after pills to Andromeda, before straightening herself up and proclaiming:

"Bill, could I use some magic instead? She is not awake, she needs 'elp, the medicine is not vorking…Bill?"

From the corner of the room there came a slight nod. With much effort Fleur protruded from somewhere in her dress a thin stick, and with sudden realisation of what will shortly take place Teddy stopped midway through his chewing and instead stared wide eyed at Mrs. Delacour, paralysed. For this was his first time seeing magic.

" _Dusacandium!_ " A sudden shot of purple light came whizzing out from the tip of the stick and landed in a perfect arc on his gran's forehead, leaving a trace behind that wafted temporarily in the air. It was as if his gran was suddenly awake from the dead, how she first opened her eyes and then her face lost the fiery red, then her fingers started moving and with a bolt she sat up again, eyes blinking furiously. Mrs. Delacour gave a smile, then struck the powerful stick back into her dress and helped to aid Andromeda, who was now completely fine on her own.

Baffled, Teddy came towards Mrs. Delacour and asked, with his face pale:

"Was that, that magic?"

"Yes, it is magic."

"So, that's a magic wand then?"

"Oh yes, it is. You vill get one at Grunvin's finest vands, although Ollivander's were always ze best. Ah, ze poor man died only a few years ago...of course, I got mine from Beauxbaton's vand makers, zey are also very good."

"So I'll get one?"

"Zeddy, you and Victoire vill both get one, Bill vill take you both. And you vill also get cauldrons, big pots, and also magic books and robes, great swishing ones. Ve, I mean, I, got blue ones. Very pretty. You vill get robes the colour of your 'ouse, I believe either-"

"Houses? Like the ones at boarding schools where rich spoilt nerds go?"

"Ai, yes. 'ogwarts is a boarding school, and the 'ouses are Slytherin, emerald green; Griffindor, sunset scarlet; Ravenclaw, gorgeous blue; and 'ufflepuff, 'oney yellow."

"And I'll tell you now straight and true that Griffindor is always the best house, your father and his friends were all in that houses and all the Weasley's were too, including myself." Bill became interested once again and joined the group crowded at the table, with a baffled Andromeda still temporarily speechless.

"Teddy, you had better live up to your parent's desires! Tonks herself was in Griffindor, and so is Remus. Very fine role models, and died in their desire to save you, to save the next generations and everyone else from having to face a miserable life…they were one of the bravest people out there, Teddy…and I pray to God that they are in Heaven and are able to look down and see their son progressing so well…" There were tears in Bill's eyes as he looked down at Teddy, who was standing speechless. He didn't want to say that he wanted parents like Bill and Fleur anymore; instead he felt ashamed of himself. Although he has never remembered seeing his parents before, or holding their hands or touching their faces, he knew deep inside that they were with him, always.

And with this in thought he returned Bill's remark with making a cross at his heart.

"I will."

**I have lied to you all who have bothered to read my last comment, and yes I have magically managed to produce yet another chapter of Teddy Lupin-19 years later the next day, which I will change to _Before Hogwarts_ as I am planning to write a trilogy (perhaps), however I am dead serious now that I will most likely not be producing any more work (maybe on next Monday as it is a public holiday) until the middle of June, as mentioned before, however please do not give up on my fanfics! I will promise that my writing can only get better and if you must know but I am new to and this is my first and incomplete fanfic (!), so please either pardon my incorrect word use or send me a review of where I should modify it! I am planning to equip myself with a BetaReader sometime soon, so hopefully then my works won't be as difficult and squirming to read (hopefully it isn't that _bad_ ). Albeit this I still thank all of those who have read all the way up to this chapter, I understand that it is difficult to do so from experience myself, and I wish you all the best of luck with your own fanfics and may they attract swarms of reviews just like I hope I will!

 _Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to_ _ **turn on the light**_ _– Albus Dumbledore**_


	8. A Surprising Visit

Minerva rested back onto the rocking chair, humming a soft tune as she observed without any real interest at the birds that flew from flower to flower. When she got bored of this, she became fixed onto the very particular hole in the neighbour's fence. So particularly round, like it has been actually made to do a purpose, a purpose to...then with a small sigh, Minerva decided that the truth she has been trying to dismiss since the start of the school holidays is true. She was bored, _awfully_ bored. She missed the piles of letters from worrisome mothers that comes flowing in every Tuesday, she missed the students that would although howl their lungs out and make her want to pin each of them down with axles that were actually extremely considerate and made her time at Hogwarts more amusing to look forwards to, and she desperately missed the intriguing Quidditch games she was accustomed to attend every once or twice in a month.

It was at this thought that the maid, a skinny squib with a distasteful look fixed permanently on her pale face, came walking in and decisively planted herself onto one of the wicker chairs, with a sourer look than usual. She was, in Minerva's opinion, an absolute nuisance that simply wasted her money, but she was too nice to kick the poor girl out who had lost contact with almost all her family after moving to England. Still, sitting without a word on Minerva's prized possessions was a bit too much, especially as the girl was now busying herself with a golden crumble without having any invitation.

"Georgia, I beg you to own some better _manners_ next time, as I am actually acquainted to pay you a considerable amount of money for you to _help_ me, not to-"

"Oh, sorry Madame. I forgot about my manners, I'll promise to give you some next time. By the way," and the girl had somehow managed to still continue her speech when Minerva was giving her the coldest and fiercest glare she could manage without squinting, "there's someone at the door."

"Oh!" Minerva stopped her glaring and instead asked in a questioning tone to the girl who was helping herself to another golden crumble biscuit from the biscuit tin, which Minerva decided to ignore for the time being.

"Georgia, so who is this visitor? It's not Pomona again, now is it? For if it is you should have just took her into the living room and gave her a cup of tea, Daffodil tea with a spoon of honey. Or, could it possibly be Neville, he always seem to have a lot of questions to ask me and I am awfully pleased to say but he is the most attentive listener I've had yet! Wait, is it famous Harry Potter or the Weasley's, or Miss Granger or Andromeda, my longest living friend and I think that she is having a twinge of trouble with her grandson, Teddy I believe?" This is left on a rhetorical question, for of course the young maid knew nothing about these people, and of course Minerva was never this talkative but she was bored, bored out of her mind and the rush of words just shot out like a waterfall from her usually tightly concealed mouth. The maid gave a slight shake of her head, shaking her golden curls before muttering, "Oh, it's a sure eccentric woman. Weird, I'd say. Says that she wants to see you urgently, and I invited her in and gave her some tea and she just went yabbering to herself. Weird one."

To this Minerva had a horrible feeling in her stomach, and fearing the worst she made her way to the living room without any haste. And, sitting stiff in her living room, clad in an awkward looking dress pinched with laundry pegs, dragon fly eyes magnified in her thick glass leans, fingers trembling and muttering to herself in an auspicious way was none other than Sybil Trelawney.

"Oh, Minerva! It is you, is it not? So the prophecies were very much correct?"

"Er, yes, _Sybil_." And Minerva said it in such an icy way that it sounded the same as starkly telling the woman to go away, the exact thought that stuck itself in Minerva's mind. Sybil, however, was not the least bit troubled. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying herself the longer she sat there.

"Minerva, I believe that-"

"Tell me, but just why did you come here? I am on vacation thank you very much, and I would appreciate it if you could…I mean," and Minerva realised with a pang how rude she was being and quickly managed a smile that appeared so fake it seemed like she was grimacing, before continuing, with some manners this time, "How can I possible help you?"

"Oh Minerva, I wish I could tell you in a few words and save my sore throat from hurting, for it is in my consequence that the Sun and Moon collided!"

"You mean, that this, er, thing has something to do with a _Sun and Moon colliding_? What, a solar eclipse?"

"Oh no, my dear Minerva. I mean that my sore throat was due to the Sun and Moon colliding."

"But that is _impossible_! I mean yes, one day the Sun will collide with the moon, but it hasn't happened now so I don't get where that came from, Sybil. The most outrageous thing I've heard yet from you!" And Minerva, in that very moment, forgot that prophecies were never based on fact.

"Of course it has not happened, my dear Minerva, but I saw it through my crystal ball last night and this morning I awoke to a terrible sore throat, an indication of-"

"Sybil, please, get to the point. I am on a rather, er, tight schedule right now from workloads and would appreciate it if you could-"

"But I just saw you coming out from the garden! Surely you don't do your work there, do you Minerva?"

"Well, perhaps I do! I do actually, the outside environment gives me a better mood, and more peace and quiet-"

"Can I have a look?" This question was enough to stop Minerva and give her something to be speechless at. Such wit that Sybil displayed, and yet because of her personality and appearance Minerva only though of this as her being childish.

"Sybil, hurry to the point already! Please, I do have no time for you and, actually, I was meaning to say that I had affairs to attend to today and if you could hurry up I would appreciate it!" To this Sybil's eyes widened even more and she drastically put her cup back down on the coffee table, before proclaiming with a trembling voice:

"Minerva, I have foreseen horrible, _horrible_ things that will occur to young Edward Lupin."

"Such as?" Minerva prompted, albeit inside her head she thought that Sybil was going to give her a load of rubbish again.

"Dear Minerva, I wish I could be more specific! However, I have extracted from my days of labour and through my trusty companions help, Parvati and Lavender, my most attentive scholars, the most important foundational details that could act as a fundamental support towards further development. But, I am almost positive that young Edward is in danger, grave danger. I first thought that it may be a mistake, because the crystal ball that afternoon was too blurred to be able to decipher information clearly, but after the continuous reappearance of the same sign I was sure after the week that my prediction is true. To be able to further prove this, I have asked Parvati and Lavender to examine the same crystal ball and report to me what they see with their Eye. Both told me that they saw the same thing, a cloud of undefinable dust that hovers to form the shape of a heart before falling back down again. And this, my dear Minerva, can only indicate one thing."

"And that is?"

"A heart that will collapse to pieces is the indication of evil. The worse kind of evil." Sybil looked up expectantly at Minerva, as if expecting her to gasp or applaud her for her discoveries. To this, Minerva gave a modest nod of her head while trying to suppress the utter disbelief she held.

"So, Minerva, I went into it further. I examined the skies and used the natural forces to finally uncover the meaning behind it. For I knew that it indicated evil, but what kind of evil?"

"Didn't you say the _worst_ kind of evil?"

"Yes, the worst type, however what exactly makes it appear so terrible? And my dear Minerva, I finally found out last night when suddenly inspiration hit me like a fork stabbed into my brain! It had something to do with Teddy, however what makes it so disastrous is that hearts will be broken, in literal terms lives will be at stake and death will be inevitable. I am here to inform you that your students are very much in danger and-" Sybil stopped abruptly, for now Minerva stood up and angrily shouted out, her dignity long gone due to the fits of anger that overwhelmed her of her senses and morality,

"Sybil, I can very much assure you that every student submitted into Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be under the greatest of protection, and you are proclaiming against my ability and other highly trained professors ability by declaring such a statement! Don't you throw your rubbish at me, you under trained Witch! I've had enough of you and your endless garbage, get out of my house!" And when Sybil, temporarily frozen in shock, did not move in time, Minerva howled out, her face flaming red and her hands clenched tightly into fists, for never before has she owned such a state of anger and had such the urge to smash something in half,

"I said, GET OUT! Did you hear me correctly?! I don't want you stepping onto the floors of my house ever again and I don't want to see your unfavourable presence anywhere again, you hear me?! Just because Dumbledore was lenient on you does not mean that I am the same! GET OUT!" And to the last syllable of Minerva's words the house trembled and the walls were on the verge of shattering into pieces, and swiftly Sybil got to her feet, looked inquiringly at Minerva before going out the door, her last words trailing in the air with the deafening bang, the words she had proclaimed so calmly, the words "Be warned, Minerva" was almost too much for Ms. McGonagall to handle. Visions of Dumbledore came flashing into her mind and she tumbled onto the floor, the weight of everything too much of a pain and misery to her, everything came flashing back, all the tortures she had faced and-

"Oh I'd be slapped! The Mistress is dead!"

**Yes everyone, I have left this on a good cliff hanger and I'm not going to tell you what will happen next, for otherwise you might stop reading my fanfics because I think I'll retire writing fanfics for a while until the middle of June. And I'll defend myself will armoury in the case that a whole hoard of you will start mentally stabbing me for the cliff hanger that I will leave hanging for at least two months…hahaha, anyway I ask everyone a favour to next time along with your review also tell me if you have written any works yet on , and whether your account if active or not, so that it's easier for me to send you guys reviews back.**


	9. A Twist in Events

Professor Filius Flitwick stared contentedly out towards the meadow, absorbing all the scenery into his mind and letting his head rest peacefully onto the rocking grandmother chair. This is definitely the way that life was meant to be, being able to attend afternoon tea with Mr. Shacklebolt once every month, being able to listen to the remorseful songs from the 60's, being able to write aimlessly long letters to his dearest student, Mrs. Hermione Weasley, and finally being freed from the rowdy bunch of students. Yes, peace and happiness tied up together and forming the most satisfactory retirement procedure for old Filius. Well, _almost_.

"Dad, what are you doing out there without your coat?" The shrill voice disturbed the peaceful harmony and with a groan Filius answered back in monotone, like he had done so many times before:

"Dearest Eleanor, I am perfectly fine without my coat. It is Summer and-"

"Summer! Is it so _already_?! I thought it was still Spring! Nancy was telling me the other day at The Witch's Hat how stupid those Muggles were, letting off all that foul gas and making Summer a misery to go through!" Filius gave a small sigh. It was typical of Eleanor to go off topic as soon as she started talking, especially after giving birth to six children…the absolute thought was enough to make Filius regret ever advising his daughter to find a husband early!

"Eleanor, where's Arthur and Suzanne and Chelsea and Lawrence and Melody and Agatha?"

"Well, Arthur's out at work at the Ministry, the poor thing. Suzanne is slaving away at the St Mungo's Hospital, Chelsea is busy out with her tiresome friends, a bunch of good for nothings if you ask me. Lawrence is at the Muggle University, it always hurts me so that he's a Squib at the end, and he's so charming with the Muggle girls, got himself a bunch of girlfriend's already…and Melody is paying a visit to my brother, and Agatha is…well, she _should_ be doing her homework, but I believe that she is flirting with the boy next door again." To all of this Filius gave a weary nod, before deciding that perhaps going inside would be a better idea after all, to stop Eleanor from squabbling her lungs out and drilling holes in his ears.

It was late that afternoon that there came an abrupt knock on the door, when the sun was starting to melt into the hills and the tired workers were traipsing their way back to their houses. This is extremely startling, for the post only ever really comes early in the morning when half the country was still slumbering away, unless if anyone is eager enough to pay extra knuts for a late delivery (no one did). On hearing the noise, Mrs. Eleanor Quinn dropped the washing she was absentmindedly collecting and hurriedly made her way to the front door, nearly choking Agatha on the way who was busy eating a piece of cheesecake. As Mrs. Quinn rushed past, she still remembered to exclaim out:

"Agatha, you little pig! That was meant for dinner, you horrid little thing!"

To which Agatha managed to gasp out:

"Mum, I'm _starving_ to death here!"

Finally, Mrs Quinn flung open the door and peered out. To her utter disbelief, it wasn't an owl this time, instead it was an unruly looking man who held a certain atmosphere that made Mrs. Quinn raise her eyebrows. _Another one asking for money, England is going to the dumps now!_

Before Mrs. Quinn could register any sort of witty comment, the man spoke hoarsely up, withdrawing a letter that speckled with grime as he did so:

"Mr. Filius Flitwick here?"

Mrs. Quinn glared suspiciously at the letter to identify the words, however the rough hand covered the entire front cover. After waiting for a while, the man promptly spoke up again:

"Is this not the ah, resident of Mr. Filius Flitwick?"

"Ah, it is."

"And you are of any relation to Mr. F Flitwick?"

"Frankly, I am his daughter."

"Very well. This letter is for him and him only, so, er, keep off it." As the man began to turn his head around, Mrs. Quinn suddenly registered what he had told her and quickly spoke defiantly:

"But why send this letter at such a late time? And why is it a person instead of an owl? And, oh my my! From St. Mungo's! Must be dear Suzanne! But she's very cautious about her money, and I'd highly doubt she'd send a letter, and-"

"Hold on there lady! I know nothing 'bout it, them jus' gave it to me and said, 'Ai, give it to this person.' An' I did, so, er, ask 'em if yer want, me know nothink."

Mrs. Quinn gave a slight 'Humph' of discontentment, before promptly slamming the door and giving the letter a good whack on the dining table, fuming as she did so, before there came a yell from outside:

"Good Lady, give me 'ome money, will ya?" To which Mrs. Quinn shouted out:

"Don't be smart with me next time and I might consider it!"

Agatha did choke this time, and sensing that it was not a good idea for her to sit there and continue on her eating she sat up and politely resumed back to her preoccupied reading of _The most powerful charms and their properties_. Mrs. Quinn, on the other hand, gingerly held up the letter and gave it a prim look of dissatisfaction, the exact same look she usually reserves for when she sees her daughter messing with the next door neighbour, before walking up the stairs. It was for a brief moment that she took some careful consideration, before deciding that it was best for Filius to have a look before she jumped to any conclusions. Knocking on the door, Mrs. Quinn held her breath, and then gave a quick glance back at obscured writing just as Filius opened the door.

"Again Eleanor? Can't one rest in peace?"

"Father, there's this, ah, post that you may want to see." This time Mrs. Quinn's voice was timid and her face was uneasy, to which Filius obviously noticed however confined to himself for the time being.

"I thought there was no letter today, or was I mistaken?"

"Well, there wasn't in the _morning_ , but I, well, I received this letter just then."

"Absolutely outrageous! Never heard such a thing before! Spluttering, dumbfounding, astonishingly surprising! May I ask but why was this letter sent?"

To this Mrs. Quinn shook her head and cried out,

"That's exactly what I was wondering! Dad, are you hiding something from me? And it's also sent by a person, a _person_ would you believe it! Oh, and it's from St Mungo's too! Suzanne! Of course! It's something about her and she's, she's probably in trouble and…oh father, whatever is in that letter?! To hell with it!" To all of this Filius simply raised an eyebrow. This was the typical sort of outburst his students will profusely make when he demanded them for their two weeks' overdue homework, and so he owned perfect serenity to all of it and grasped the letter, without even a curious flinch in his eyes.

"My Eleanor, I do feel a good deal like a Hercule Poirot today, and so I-"

"Father, don't be a Hercule Poirot! I admire Christie's works but honestly this is a life and death crisis here and you're making a joke of it all! Hurry up now will you?!"

"Eleanor, control yourself! And you are nosing into other people's businesses a good deal! No wonder Agatha was complaining the other day how you were always sticking your noise into her face whenever she exchanged friendly remarks with the poor lad next door!"

"Friendly my arse! I'm telling you but their relationship-"

"Eleanor! You were telling Agatha the other day not to swear and here you are making a prime example that she can use in the future to go against you orders! Will you just stuff you head in a bag and let me read this letter!" Finally Mrs. Quinn stopped her shouting and resigned to standing in stupidity facing her father, her face flaming red with embarrassment as she stood idly there.

Filius opened the wax seal with the St Mungo's symbol printed boldly across the royal red surface, and shook out the letter with a crisp sound of satisfaction. However, as his tiny pinprick eyes skirted across the contents his face paled and his fingers trembled. "Oh McGonagall," he muttered, and slowly two tears came sliding down his wrinkled face and he dropped the letter, which went floating like a feather down to the ground, touching the edge of Mrs. Quinn's feet. Sensing her opportunity, and as curiosity got better of her instincts, she grasped the letter and murmured to herself as she read:

 _To Mr. Filius Flitwick;_

 _It is to our deepest of sympathy that we present you with some disastrous news. It is with regards to Ms. Minerva McGonagall, who presumably registered you as her friend before the tragedy of her death. As her friend, we would like to inform you of the reason this occurred throughout this letter, confined to you and you only:_

 _Ms. M McGonagall, aged 82 and 3 months, female, deceased away on the 16_ _th_ _of August due to an unknown reason that the medical staff are going to go into further examination. It is told to us by her maid, who was present at the time, that a Ms. Trelawney had trespassed into the house at approx. 1.30 pm. The maid, by the name of Ms. Georgia Hiltons, was in the kitchen when she heard the commotion in the living room. She hurried in at approx. 1.50 pm and found Ms. McGonagall dead, and no Ms. Trelawney in sight. However, what is interesting is that Ms. McGonagall was not killed by any form of magic, and it has gone against the Wizarding Law that such acts were possible to anyone with magical capabilities._

 _We sincerely apologise for the trauma it may bring you and solemnly invite you for a meeting at any time that you request._

 _The Chief Medical Intendant at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries,_

 _Evelyn Castleton_

Mrs. Quinn stared in dumfounded shock at her father, before hurriedly aiding the frail man into his room and deciding that it is time she wrote a letter to Suzanne, however not without-

"Agatha! Bring the quill and parchment to me!"

"Mum, what's wrong up there?"

"Just bring the quill and parchment!"

"How many?"

Mrs. Quinn gave a small count in her head, before firmly responding:

"As many as we have in the house!"

Proceeding the wait, Mrs. Quinn adjusted herself to the radio and turned the knob to the Classical Station, and noticing how much misery and pain her father was currently facing she decided to leave the poor man alone in his own placid thoughts. However before closing the door she realised how much this scene reminded her of when her mother left the family for a Muggle man…the exact same frozen expression, eyes wide with indescribable horror, the small and frail body twitching motionlessly, the exact same Beatles song playing tunelessly in the background…

 _Dearest Mrs. H. Weasley (nee Granger), Mr. H Potter, Mr. R Weasley and family, the remaining cohort of The Order Of The Phoenix,_

Mrs. Quinn contemplated whether the Hogwarts staff knew anything about the tragic death of McGonagall, and then with a sudden realisation Mrs. Quinn leapt from the chair she was sitting on and exclaimed:

"So that's what he meant that day!"

**Surprise, surprise! Another cliff hanger for all of you to enjoy (just kidding), and I know everyone hates what fate has directed in this fanfic but honestly people, it's either McGonagall dying or…like I'm going to spoil anything! I'm just kidding, it just came to me one day and so I stuck to it.**


	10. Evil Looms Near

"Ms…?"

"Oh, must I tell you?"

"Quite certainly, yes! I like to know who I'm addressing to before I take to any procedures, after the-"

"So I'm guessing that the Hogwarts trauma never quite left you?"

"No, no, absolutely not. I get haunted by, by things. Like Dumbledore, and Snape's fleeting shadow, and then of those horrible faces staring with ice cold eyes at me, the blood splattered floors…horrible, _horrible_!" The old woman shuddered in response.

"Let us not talk about that. So why have you, er, come? What business, speak up!" The addressed woman gave a contemplating look, swiftly strode a step forwards without crossing Pomona Sprout's borders in her dangerously high red heels, pursed her lips like a sly fox, then spoke in her cool accent:

"Ms, I am from the _Witches Catering Co-Operation_ , or WCC. You have heard about us before, have you not?" Pomona thought hard. After a moment of moderate confusion, she shook her head.

"No, don't think so anyway. Though I wouldn't quite trust myself these days, getting a bit watery in the head. You know, comes with age." The petite woman gave a thin smile, then protruded from her leather bag an elegant quill and a parchment in a handy size, gave a quick flourish before planting the note firmly in Pomona's weather worn hands.

"You must be detached from the modern society these days. Our company is administered by a very prominent Witch, Madame Huxley, and she is renowned as one of the magic world's richest witch, absolutely rolling in galleons! Of course, this means that we have the provision to afford a 20 storey sky scraper soon to be built, right next to Gringotts, and two page advertisements every day on the _Daily Prophet_ , morning and evening edition! The building will be a marvel to look at for sure, it is to be created with marble slabs, the newest fashion of course, and gold and crystals will contemplate the furnishes inside! Why, I believe that Shacklebolt himself will cut the red ribbon on the day of-"

"You still haven't told me your name and purpose."

"Oh," and the lady flushed crimson while Pomona went back to examining the swirling motion on her cup of coffee, "well, I am Ms. Devonshire, Ms. Fiona Devonshire. I'm here to, well, advertise further. Rather annoying too, if I must say, how so far only a couple of people have given some attention, and more than half of them are wizards! It is a _witch's_ agency, for goodness sake!" To which Pomona promptly replied back, her tone weary like she was stifling a yawn:

"I wonder why, Ms. Devonshire." Afterwards, there came a certain uncomfortable silence, before the woman spoke up again:

"Mind if I accompany you to a cup of coffee?"

"Go ahead, go ahead. Old Alfey's a friend of mine, gives me free ones whenever I ask for it. But life's a drag now, without the students to look forwards to…at times I wish that I hadn't given the post to Longbottom…at times I wish that God would allow me another twenty or so years of being young…" Pomona gave a sigh before looking absentmindedly at the disappearing figure of the youth, so carefree, so into her looks, so fragile to betrayal and cheat and the hardships of life…but she should enjoy this moment of freedom as much as she can before it's gone, for it will never come back again. _Just like Dumbledore, just like Fred Weasley, just like Snape, just like so many other innocent students and teachers…I am still alive, but that is not something to be grateful for. For I cannot bear the burden anymore, the burden of all those deaths that I could not prevent from happening, and I wish that I could be able to exchange my miserable life with theirs, to be able to finally stay peaceful, stay dead without fear and guilt, stay away from the haunts that surround me with ice cold sweat…_

"Ms, what's wrong? You look pale, really pale, like, like you had seen a _ghost_ of your predecessor or something…are you alright?" Pomona gave a startled blink, then nodded her head and gave a weak smile:

"I'm fine dear, really I am. Got some, er, water flowing in again. I've lost my consciousness, comes with age." Mrs. Devonshire gave a last worrying glance, before starting the conversation again about the renovation process, of which Pomona had no interest or intention of listening at all:

"Like I was saying before, Ms. Huxley plans to add this sky deck where you can see the whole of England, and it will be terrific! Oh, look at my brain! I've forgot to tell you what we do! Give me a moment to remember my speech, the weather is getting on my nerves, stifling hot to be wearing a silk scarf in the middle of Summer, dreadful…anyway, what we do is precisely this;" and she gave a moments pause before she spoke again, eye lids fluttering contentedly with every movement of her polished lips:

" _Good morning kind madams! Would you care to take a look at the construction of a baffling building that will exhibit tens and thousands more working positions for searching witches? Yes, I do mean what I say. Indeed, the 20 storey sky scraper that is located next to Gringotts will withhold work opportunities liable to fit everyone's talents! We are currently accepting every talent ranging from filling in the inkpots to performing fast and accurate spells! All of which will be paid in reasonable amounts and will be finally a solution to rely on one's capabilities and produces rather than your fellow Wizard's! Please accept this handout, which illuminates all the contact details and important information regarding our service, the Witches Catering Co-Operation, out to help out millions of witches from boredom and living in pits of guilt!_ " At the end of her lengthy and rather inspirational speech, Ms. Devonshire cleared her throat and looked expectantly at Pomona, who had been immersed in the format of the bushes nearby during the speech and therefore did not manage to administer what the girl was saying. Still the girl was looking in expectation towards Pomona, who was now really beginning to feel that this young lady was too content on her life and her personality. However, Pomona still managed to think up something to say back that would work in pretty much every situation:

"A speech that I would say would need some adjustments, however none of them are too concerning. "

"I thought so too…by the way, you are Ms...?"

"Ms. Sprout. Ms. Pomona Sprout." This certainly startled Ms. Devonshire, for she opened her eyes wide and stopped stirring her coffee, mouth gaping and speechless. Inside, she was thinking how extraordinary it was that she was meeting the very person that was on the radio last evening, the Hogwarts retired Herbology teacher, the one that-

"Am I familiar to you?"

"Oh, yes, yes I guess you are! Were you on the radio last evening, on the _Witches Gossip Hour_? Oh, but of course you wouldn't know! You're detached from the modern world!" Pomona raised an eyebrow before starkly remarking:

"I wouldn't know nothing about what you young lots are doing these days, a _Witches Gossip Hour_? I'd prefer the _Classical Station_ to any of those other channels on the radio."

"So you have been detached from the world now, have you not? I've read somewhere that when witches or wizards retire they go a bit, pardon me, _berserk_ and just feel that life is not worth it anymore. No wonder most witches and wizards don't use any spells or potions to help them live for eternity…"

"Eternity? My goodness, you _are_ too young to be able to know anything about how treacherous and miserable life really is! It's absolute torture, seeing so many deaths and going through all sorts of things that make you wake up in the middle of the night, panting and thoughts of the past just pelting down on you…by my age, you would simply welcome death as a friend…"

"But You-Know-Who, he was-"

"Voldemort please! He's nothing to be scared of, dead by young Harry's spell…something to be thankful of, though if only he would take my life too when he struck that curse down to Bethany Hilton, I would be a lot happier now! Anyway, continue please." Ms. Devonshire took a brief second of bafflement and confusion before beginning again, this time her voice slightly less cheerful:

"Yes, er, _Voldemort_ ," still she said it in a melodramatic undertone voice, to which Pomona gave a sigh of exasperation, "He didn't admire the prospect of death. He, well, he wanted to be immortal. And he was…I don't know really, younger or older than you now, Ms. Sprout? Older I believe judging by the fact that he was…wait younger I presume, I-"

"I'm sorry, dear, but I suddenly remembered what I wanted to ask you earlier."

"Yes?" And the lady leant in closer in curiosity.

"Why was I in the radio gossip stuff? I'm not usually in those stations, quite often I'm in the _Memorial Column_ or the _Herbology Times_ , or occasionally in the _Wizarding World News Broadcasting Co-Operation_ , but never in, what was it again?"

" _Witches Gossip Hour_. And it's because…haven't you heard?" Pomona shook her head wearily, then gingerly fingered the amulet hanging over the middle of her chest, her usual way of thinking or to pass through boredom.

"Oh, well, McGonagall's dead! It's all over the news, everywhere! She-" but Ms. Devonshire stopped herself, when she saw the colour draining from Pomona's face and in slow motion the coffee cup was thrown off the table and landed onto the ground, the cup rolling for a while before it stopped and sat there, almost like hesitating. And the promotor was hesitating, of whether she should comfort the lady or do nothing, but for one thing she is certain of is that she should not continue with her sentence anymore.

Pomona managed to gasp out, her body contorting in the most horrible way imaginable and her eyes unblinking staring towards the ceiling, fingers shaking uncontrollably over the table:

"I haven't checked any letter, or news, or radio or anything for the past weeks. _I was haunted, haunted by everything. I want to die now, let me die now, she's gone…gone like everyone else, why am I still alive? Why?_ " And her terrifying eyes slowly manoeuvred to Ms. Devonshire, and sat there in a state of unconsciousness, waiting for a response that Ms. Devonshire could not say back. The wind started howling, the trees started bending in an arching movement over the witches and wizards hurrying back home, each pulling their cloaks around them tightly and grasping the heavy shopping bags in their red hands, for the wind was too fierce to be able to use magic. The sun disappeared, and the clouds clumped together allowing darkness to take place. The shops swung their doors closed and shot the locks back in place, the cheerful commotion ended and the wizards stopped their drinking and staring secretly at the witches…for something extraordinary was about to take place.

And then dark clouds started forming shape, a long drawing sound came from afar, the black hoods came flapping in the air…and then there came a high pitched scream, a scream of terror that penetrated the air and frenzied the others to follow suit. Throughout all the mess, Pomona remained where she was seated. For she welcomed death as a friend, and smiling she gazed up towards the pale face that extended its mouth and lurched forwards, ready to place a _kiss_ …

 _Dementors_

**Just for those curious or those that are bored, this is what really happened on the _Witches Gossip Hour_ :

M.J: Welcome again to the _Witches Gossip Hour_! We are here to transport the most startling and eye widening news to your ears, and are here to answer the questions that make your face flame red! Indeed, just this morning (in the aspect that this was done prior to the scene of this chapter, as in done yesterday) there did come some shocking news, I believe feasty enough to satisfy most of our eager audience until lunch!

R.P: Yes Margaret, I believe so too! Everyone, hear this! The well-known head mistress of Hogwarts, need I explain further the most famous school in England, Professor Minerva McGonagall, died this morning!

M.J: However, this is not the most startling! The fact that Ms. McGonagall died not from magic but by _actual_ Muggle death is what intrigues us and millions of others the most! How is that even possible, you might ask yourself. Today, we are to present you with some of the most common beliefs that staff at St. Mungo's has considered, given exclusively to us:

(I'll skip the next 10 minutes or so, until the bit where Pomona appears)

R.P: I believe that McGonagall's friends will be very much in despair, and may I add but Hogwarts will need a new Head master or Mistress now! Will it be Filius Flitwick, retired teacher of Charms, or Pomona Sprout, retired teacher of Herbology or-

M.J: Rachel, I believe that we can leave this on a cliff hanger! The proceeding Hogwarts election will commence promptly next week, on the Hogwarts school grounds, and we understand that the urge to glimpse this event will surely appeal to many, but we have been told that this is strictly available only to members who have been given appropriate invitations. And yes, there will be spells put all around the school during the process, to keep it all hush hush, but of course we must spill the beans to all of our listeners!

R.P: May I also add that Flitwick is the best candidate so far? But, this will be discussed as soon as we hear ear to anything else _interesting_ …

(Then Ms. Devonshire switched the radio off)


	11. Two Sequential Deaths

Outside, a gush of wind blew across the desolated terrains and left a horrendous mark across the clean floorboards. Yes, there is indeed a neat patch of floor comprised with strips of mahogany wood in the middle of a desert, and yes, there is also a towering statue of Albus Dumbledore beaming down at everyone with his wise and penetrating eyes. All of this is quite obviously the act of a witch or wizard.

Above the frenzied crowd of eager participants, the last rays of sunlight disappeared and stars began to shine faintly behind the clumps of dismal clouds. The silver flick of the moon radiated its powerful light and shone brighter the louder the screaming became. Fierce strikes of cold shot like powerful arrows into the flapping formation of cloaks, controlled merely by the fierce grabbing and rough tugging…but none of them were inclined to even let the thought of going home trespass their minds.

Underneath the sheath of darkness there looms a great rectangular table, illuminated by a pit of harmless blue flames lit directly underneath, its tongue licking viciously at anything it can grasp onto. The glass surface shone and reflected the concentrated opponents, each trying their best to block out the screaming and their thumping hearts. As a single slick of sweat rolled off Rockmiere's scarred face, Longbottom shot the stick forwards and with a satisfactory 'crack' the ball shot off into one of the holes, leaving a megawatt grin that held its presence for a good few minutes of glory. Rockmiere hissed, then harshly gave Longbottom a quick scuff of the hand before disappearing away and into the congested crowd.

"Well done, Longbottom!"

"Yer did it, yer great champ!"

"Get off there, Rockmiere! You sore loser!"

"Next! I'm next, and I'm going to kick yer ass like anything, Longbottom, just you wait!"

This last comment was from a skinny boy, his hands clamped tightly around a wad of money and his blue eyes shining bright with malice. Neville Longbottom took a moment of consideration, stretched his weary back and took a refreshing swig of beer before responding back, much to the crowd's delight:

"Come up here boy, and see if my skills are good enough for you!"

The boy gave a sneer before triumphantly rolling up his sleeves and tousling up his white-blonde hair, walking with much contempt up towards the lit podium. Below, a few young women started whistling and groups of men started hissing their venom at the immature competitor, spitting out their oppressive comments without any consideration. Neville, on the other hand, sensed after his arduous years of teaching experience that this boy is not to be taken lightly. Although, this boy does starkly remind Neville of Draco, Draco Malfoy, the bully that tormented his years at Hogwarts and defeated his ambitions for life…if it was not for her.

"Pick up a pool stick from Bessy over there," and the displeased lady inclined by shoving a rough stick into the boy's soft hands, though not without a mutter under her breath of 'this boy can'tve done any work in 'e's life'.

"And that's the first and most crucial step. Did you know," and this Neville addressed to everyone, "that a Bottle Shaped Snarf is completely useless once it has grown mature? Did you perhaps also know that-"

"'urry up, Longbottom! Me stomach's all growling!"

Neville gave a modest wave of his tired hands, before facing his opponent with an approachable grin.

"You ready, boy?"

The boy's pale face suddenly ignited to life and he swung the stick fiercely at the table, trying to show his power. More unbearable was that desperate hands started shooting towards him, fingers itching to touch his scarlet robe from the love-driven ladies, and that an ear-aching chant has suddenly erupted somewhere amongst the sea of heads.

"Right on you, Longbottom."

"Name?"

"Cane. Kristopher Cane. Descendant of the famous Quidditch player, Davias Smirtings. Heard him before, Longbottom?"

Neville displayed his best look of confusion to this and inclined his head sideways, to which the boy gave a howl of laughter:

"Don't know _him_?! Where have you been living, Longbottom? Under a rock?"

Ignoring the slappable smirk, Neville made his first swift move by acting with full on concentration and utmost accuracy at the ball, lunging his lean body forwards and slamming the obstacle with such force that it bounced off all four corners before triumphantly rolling into the hole opposite, leaving a satisfactory 'clunk' that penetrated loud and clear amongst the concentrated silence. Cane stared at this with bafflement, mouth open wide and eyes almost popping out of their irritating sockets. To this, the audience gave a supporting cheer of delight and opened fresh bottles of beer, ready to get themselves fully entertained again.

Cane, however, had a different approach to this all. With brows knitted tightly together, he addressed Longbottom fiercely:

"Unfair much? I wasn't bloody ready yet, yer' ass! Anyway," and the boy swiftly took out from the bulging pockets of his elegant robe an immense amount of Muggle money, then threw it care freely towards the dumb founded Neville.

"Money, how's that, Longbottom? More money than you'd ever see in your life, with that lousy career of yours at Hogwarts! Herbology, ain't it? My mother says that that's the most _pathetic_ subject Hogwarts-"

"Take it back. I don't need your family's filth in my pockets, thank you very much."

Neville threw down the pool stick and walked swiftly down the podium, not taking a last look back at the young boy or taking any notice of the nauseating yells accusing him of cowardice. He's had enough with that Malfoy, but now-

"Come back! Fine, no money it is then! Just come back here! We'll play it fair and square, just please!"

Still Neville walked on, pushing the watchers harshly away and knocking beer bottles out of his path. He desperately needs the comfort of Shannon, desperately needs a talk with Hermione, desperately needs to forget the traumas that haunt him even today…he needs to be away from society for a while, needs to drink a reassuring bottle of butter beer, needs to-

"I said wait! I'm sorry for what I said but WAIT!"

To this Neville obliged and stopped in his dismal track, and just stood there to the hearty thumps on his aching back and ignoring the light rain that was starting to drip down. His brown eyes fought hard to control back the acid like tears and his face became paler and paler the more he stood there. He needed comfort, he needed warmth, he needed-

"Finally! Look, why don't we do it again? Start from the bloody beginning, shall we?"

Neville glared icily at the boy, before beckoning towards the friendly outline of Bessy's bar where there was a cheery late night party going on. Cane gulped, then hastily draped the robe around him again and faced Neville with bafflement.

"Surely not in there, Longbottom?" And his voice trembled with fear as he spoke, body quivering whether because of the cold or because of the prospect of going into a man's hub, somewhere where he was not accepted.

"Oh yes, Cane. Just to prove how great a man you are, we are going in there." As he spoke these words, inside Neville was a mess of confusion. He has no consciousness regarding where the hell he was leading the boy, but all he wanted was peace. In fact, no sooner had the thought came to his weary mind did he sigh out, exasperated.

"Of course not, Cane. No, I wouldn't dare bring you there. It's just…sorry, my brain's all a swirl of confusion right now, and it feels as if I'm in one place but not…feel's kind of like you have time travelled, you get me?" Inside his head Neville thought, his body swaying dangerously from side to side as he stood there in stupidity:

 _What is wrong with me? I'm not alright, God damned not alright. That scoundrel…Draco Malfoy…Hermione…why aren't you here with me? We were supposed to be together, we were…but now you...Ron, drat that red haired boy…an absolute-_

"Actually, I think it's best that we _do_ go in there. You look…dangerously ill. Want a quick refreshing spell?"

"No, I'm fine, I know I am. And yes, I think that going inside might be a good idea after all…God I'm tired, weak as anything…what time Cane?"

The boy hastily unfurled his jewel studded watch, took a minute of consideration before proclaiming:

"Two thirty in the morning, Longbottom. Awfully late…I think I'm all whoozy too."

"Very well. We'll each take a drink of coffee, settle ourselves, then have a round of pool before I faint. How's that sound to you?"

Cane shrugged, then stared hard at Longbottom. He thought how extraordinarily boring this man's life is, trudging through without any excitement or thrill. His own, he recalled, was a mixture between showing off all his wealth to making plans for the future, some possible while others outrageously not. He remembered clinging tightly onto life last week, seeing the last gold radiance glitter in front of his dazed eyes before becoming _his_ foreboding toy…not that he wants to think of that now.

"Bessy!" Cane realised in a split second that they were standing on the front porch of the late night bar, facing a gruesome lady with coarse brown hair and a thick dress that seems too tight a fit. He could, himself, see through blurred eyes the lady's mouth opening and closing and Longbottom's eyes hazily drooping…

"Like I was sayin' before, it's late an' unless yer want mad Cornwall ter knock yer teeth out then scurry along-"

And it was not a moment too soon that she stopped. Her eyes swivelled to stare in disbelief as the two figures suddenly dropped onto the floor, eyes giving a last shine before becoming motionless and their mouths became fixed in grimacing positions. The bottle of butter beer she was holding fell from her pudgy hands and cracked painfully upon the boy's temple, startling the troop inside who came blundering dizzily up from their seats and came examining with interest at the two lying figures on the ground, the shadows like long scratch marks on the porch and their bodies positioned in snow angle formations. It might have been a good laugh, but when one of them leaned down and gingerly put their hand under both noses, this scene became more of a horror than anything else and their talking abruptly stopped, the last syllable trembling in the air…

"News! News! A knuckle each! The Daily Prophet! News!"

A trailing sheet of newspaper clipping fell from the rubbish bin and landed on the middle of the pavement, attracting a girl's attention. She leaned carefully forwards, grasped the greased paper carefully and tore it off from the road. Fixing it under direct sunlight, she read:

 _The tragic deaths of Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout and last night Neville Longbottom and Kristopher Cane is startling enough to the Wizarding community. However, it is said that there was a sighting of DEMENTORS near_

"Amber, come along now!"

**Everyone, I understand that this chapter may not be my best chapter because, you must understand that I have managed to between a whole day of arduous homework to fit this chapter into my schedule…I can't promise another one next Saturday, however I promise that I'll pay all of you back with a way better one in June…by the way, I think I've got an amazingly new character in mind now…it's so amazingly developed that I can't contain myself…**


	12. 40 Years Earlier

_40 years earlier…_

 _A boy sat on the top step of the Anglican Church, his face expressionless and etched with brutal scars. His brown hair was softly waving with the wind and his spindly legs were outstretched in front of him, fitted in tight, dark jeans that showed how skinny and malnourished he was. His green eyes flashed violently underneath the pale dim of the streetlight, and his pale completion glinted sickly white. He was cold there, and inside it was warm and festivity was brimming over the top, but he didn't like corresponding with other human beings any more than necessary._

 _Suddenly the heavy doors banged alarmingly open, sending a gush of heated wind onto the boy's trembling body. There came the distinct sound of feet trotting towards him, hurried breathing and an amiable clink of glass. There was a moment of awaited company for both, until a thin voice, cracked with fear and hesitation, struck the boy's head like a powerful arrow:_

" _Mam said that you must come in now. I mean, the Priest said it. It's time for the prayer. "_

 _Silence penetrated through the air, until the boy slowly turned around and fiercely glared at the flushed girl, his manner brutal and uninviting:_

" _Why?"_

" _Because…it's the prayer…you have to come…er, mam said so."_

" _Mam?"_

 _The girl stopped twirling her dark locks and stared in surprise at the boy, her eyes widening into spheres of light that illuminated amongst the dark mass of oblivion, decorated only by the faint traces of a silvery moon and the pinpricks of a myriad of stars._

" _Are you from England, or elsewhere?"_

 _The boy merely gave a careless shrug of his heavy shoulders, before going back to ignoring the girl, much to her frustration._

" _Are you from England, or elsewhere?"_

 _Again no response. At the verge of the girl's defeat, the boy sharply turned around again and starkly snapped at her, malice splashing like thorns onto the girl's innocent body and showering her with guilt:_

" _I'm God-damned from here, and I've got no 'mam'! I've only got a child to care for, to do everything for! You-"_

 _But he couldn't continue. For his heart was still pure, his mind still clean from what evil and envy and loneliness can do, and he still had ambitions and ethics for life. The girl timidly approached him again, gingerly placing a shaking hand onto his heaving shoulder blades then slowly lowering herself onto the cold granite steps of the majestic Church._

" _It's all right."_

 _She spoke softly towards the boy, whose tears were slowly sliding down his elegant face. Both shared some quite understanding towards each other, and both spent the rest of the evening sympathising towards each other until their heads became weary, and slowly the heavy heads leant onto each other's shoulders and both entered into the complexity of their own dreams._

…

" _Can I sit here?"_

 _The boy glanced slowly up. There was a girl, with long dark curly hair and brown eyes that were staring innocently at him, waiting for his response. He had seen her 3 years ago, and therefore in inclination he moved over a spot. The girl gave a sigh of relief and promptly tried to shove her heavy suitcase onto the luggage shelf, but failed miserably. The boy could see her strain, and could see that she wanted help but was too embarrassed to ask for it, however he sat there, motionless._

 _For he had never given help to anyone before, apart from his own mother._

 _The girl finally turned to face him, pleading him with her beautiful eyes and her tiny mouth parted slightly as if trying to speak to him non-verbally without sound. Still he sat there, in a state of confusion with his inside splitting into pieces. He was a mess, he didn't know what to do or how to do it…for he lived in a world where there was no place for kindness._

" _Please!" she gasped out, attempting to lurch the suitcase up again while her skinny legs trembled to the over-whelming weight, her hair starting to glue onto her sweat covered face and multiple scratches starting to form on her heaving arms. The desperate tone in her voice finally got to the boy's senses, and hurriedly he jumped up and pushed the suitcase onto the shelf, mustering all his strength in order to do so._

 _Afterwards, the girl gave a swift smile of pleasure and extended out her injured hand, but the boy didn't take it._

…

" _Ravenclaw!"_

 _The boy finally saw light, and as the hat was lifted off his head he heard frenzied clapping and the faint hooting of encouragement. Seeing the mass of blue and bronze flags hanging proudly over the magnificent table, he swiftly bounded off the stairs and awaited his glory._

 _Then he stared back up towards the podium, and awaited for the sorting of one other person…_

" _Bellatrix Black!"_

 _The girl walked with anticipation up the gigantic stairs, then proudly plumped herself down onto the high stool and waited patiently for the Sorting Hat. Inside, the boy secretly hoped that she would be in the same house as him, but he quickly shoved the thought away with shame._

" _Slytherin!"_

 _He grimaced slightly, then when his consciousness hit him he quickly faced down towards his empty plate, his face flushing brightly with self-hatred._

…

 _It was a beautiful summer day. Crowds of students covered the patch of land beside the Black Lake, amusing themselves with the events of the week or cringing at the amount of homework that a certain professor gave them. Overhead, owls flapped cheerily in the air, let free for some exercising before being stored away again in the Owlery._

 _The boy was sitting by himself near the lake, watching water ripples form on the dark surface and listening to the excited hooting of the owls. He was in a state of serenity, and he was immensely enjoying it. His last letter to his mother was to inform her of the strange joy he was experiencing at Hogwarts…albeit the troubles too. And thinking of this, he instinctively touched a painful scar on his left arm, then winced._

" _Rodulphus!"_

 _Without looking, the boy knew who it was. Playfully he ignored the call, and tried his best to focus on the large dense water ripple in the middle of the lake. However, this soon proved impossible with the hasty shake of his shoulders._

" _Rodolphus! The project from Professor Dumbledore! It's due today, and I would detest it if we're handing it in late! Imagine his expression…are you even listening?!"_

 _The boy sighed, then laid his back onto the grassy field and stared towards the sky, thinking it over. The girl groaned, then approached the boy again, this time with perplexity:_

" _Listen, I don't give a thing if it was Professor Slughorn, or Professor Binns…or Merrythought either. But come on! It's Dumbledore we're talking about here!"_

 _The boy calmly turned to face her, then spoke with equal tranquillity:_

" _So what if it's Dumbledore?"_

" _He ought to be respected! He is a magnificent teacher, even Tom says so!"_

" _Tom?" And the boy raised a perfect eyebrow in confusion, to which the girl cried out:_

" _Tom Riddle! The one that always sits at the front and is the most attentive! The one with all Outstanding's and the one that-"_

" _Looks handsome?"_

 _The girl rolled her eyes with impatience:_

" _I'm not like other girls, who fester themselves with him. I admire him for his patience and resilience, but I don't like him in that way. He…he scares me a bit at times."_

…

" _Merry Christmas, Rodulphus."_

 _The boy glanced down at the pile of gifts laid down in front of his bed, then stared up. Startled, he saw that it was the girl again, with a broad smile plastered across her face this time and wearing a dismal black sweater._

" _It's our fourth Christmas together, Rodulphus. And Professor Dumbledore allowed me to come into your dormitory, since he knows I'm sensible."_

 _Rodulphus weakly smiled back, then sat up. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, when both were facing each other. Finally, he broke the ice with a hurried,_

" _Merry Christmas to you too, Bellatrix."_

 _Again the stuffy silence. The girl was staring at him too intensely and he felt sick all of a sudden, and cold sweat was beginning to form on his forehead. Those penetrating eyes, the luring mouth, the soft curly waves of hair…Cringing, he quickly diverted his attention to the massive pile of gifts and began to hastily unwrap them, muttering absentmindedly to himself as he did so:_

" _Wendy Chaldings…again…I hardly even know her, giving me presents every year…Grace Lockwood, the same applies…Jasmine Grieve...Bethany Hikes…her twin, Florence Hikes…and finally…you."_

 _And he stopped, stared at the meticulously wrapped present then looked up at the girl who was peering at him with boiling cheeks. He carefully unwrapped it, then stared at the gift with a feeling of contentment._

 _It was a silver Ravenclaw pin that glinted under the sunlight, pouring through the tall glass paned windows and filling the tidy room with light. He stared at it some more, before turning to face the girl. His mouth started to open in speech, however the flustered girl bet him to it:_

" _I love you, Rodulphus."_

…

 _It was the night of the Yule Ball. The boy was in his best suit, bought at Anderson's Suits, however he felt extremely embarrassed. He hadn't asked anyone to be his partner, and ignored the twenty or so volunteers that came forwards, so he sat alone near the Christmas tree while the other students laughed and danced past him. But he didn't care, he was used to being left behind._

" _Rodulphus!"_

 _It was the girl, clad in a beautiful white gown and her dark hair done up in a unique bun. Her expression was shining with radiance, and promptly she approached Rodulphus with ease._

" _Dance with me! This tune is catchy!"_

 _He subdued a groan of protest, before taking the girl's warm hands and leading her out to the spotlight. The fast-paced and energetic song suddenly came to a halt, and a soft, romantic song played out instead. And suddenly both were staring at each other, and both were getting hot in the neck and both were immersed in each other…_

" _Let's go outside. It's getting hot in here."_

 _Reluctantly the boy agreed, and walked swiftly out with the girl. Night was fast approaching, and it was dark. There was no one outside, except for a few lonesome owls that the care keeper didn't notice when he shut the Owlery. It was a perfect atmosphere for romance to take shape…and suddenly their mouths touched each other's and they were glued fiercely to each other, hands feeling for each other's backs and their eyes staring at each other in a daze. When they finally let go, the girl spoke:_

" _I knew you loved me all along, Rodulphus."_

…

" _Rodulphus?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _I don't know what's wrong with me now."_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _After being with Tom and his friends…I feel not so clean now."_

" _Tom Riddle?"_

" _Yes, him. He…he still scares me…but he is…Rodulphus, he's downright evil! I'm not evil! I don't know what the hell is wrong with me!"_

" _Bellatrix, why were you with him in the first place?"_

" _He…he saw me one day without you, and he offered for me to join him. I-"_

" _Bellatrix, couldn't you have rejected his offer or came back to me after-"_

" _I wish I could, Rodulphus! He's…luring me! I can't…I can't come out from his lure, Rodulphus!"_

" _I understand…Bellatrix. But please, please don't get yourself more involved with him that necessary, I don't like the presence of him either."_

" _I'm trying, Rodulphus! But he…"_

 _There came a moment of silence when the girl stopped her relentless crying, and she faced the boy instead, her eyes widened in horror:_

" _He can do everything and commit anything in order to get what he wants…he says that he'd rather kill me than let me go."_

…

 _The girl buried her head into the boy's chest, and cried until she could not muster any tears any more. All the while, the boy gently patted her hair and sympathised with her emotions, trying to let her understand the difficulties of life. The girl was confused, she was annoyed with herself, she was murderous, angry, and above all shameful of her vicious thoughts. She wanted to get away from Riddle, but she couldn't. She didn't know why she couldn't…all she knew was that she was starting to turn dangerously evil._

" _Rodulphus…I want to be clean again, I really do…why can't I, Rodulphus?"_

**Everyone, this is a twist from the normal structure of my stories, to provide some background information to all of you without explicit words. I wish to understand if this approach is better than actually describing the characters, since without specific descriptive words to their characteristics I think that you can still tell what I am trying to make clear about the characters.**


	13. The Heirs

"Should we start the conference now, sir?"

"Wait a moment more, Arthur. There's still people coming…at least I believe so."

"Very well, sir. We won't be counting the time until you order so, sir."

"I understand, I understand. Actually, on second thoughts, read me the guest list again so we can start ticking the names off."

"Yes sir."

The addressed shot a stubby finger into his accomplice's chest, and nodded beckoningly towards the nearby table.

"James will go and grab it, sir."

The man nodded approvingly. So far, everything was in prime condition. The weather was fine, tilting slightly towards the hot side yet also providing a comforting breeze; the appointed decoration was in its correct places; the refreshments were applied to perfection and most promising of all was that even the great oaf had arrived, somewhat hassled but still giving some respect towards the conference.

"Shall I read it to you now, sir?"

"Ah yes, now please."

Arthur gave a stiff cough, squinted decisively towards the parchment before beginning, his voice dripping with annoyance and exhilaration. His accomplice, James, looked as if he had fallen ill and hadn't yet recovered for some time, from the way his back drooped and his overly pale complexion.

"Madame Hilary Dexion, Sir Percy Weasley, Sir Hagrid…I presume he doesn't own a last name, sir?"

"He doesn't need one. Keep going Arthur."

Arthur took a last glance towards where the gentleman's eyes were staring at, quickly stifled his laugh before continuing with his melancholic voice:

"Sybill Trelawney, Alfred Higgins…sorry, Madame Sybill and Sir Alfred, Madame Lavender Brown, Sir Bill Weasley, Sir Filius Flitwick-"

"He's dead, cross him out."

Arthur quickly flourished his quill on the parchment, leaving a hideous black stain across the widely acknowledged professor's reputable name. Staring back at the list in front of him, Arthur decisively crossed out the next two names on the list too.

"And sir, that is all."

"Surely not just seven?"

"Ah sir, there was going to be a few more but due to uncontrollable, I mean, unfortunate events they can no longer attend this meeting. My sincerest apologies."

The gentleman, only slightly past his twenties, gave an imprudent huff of dissatisfaction that greatly amused his standbys.

"Sir, whatever is the matter? I do not recognise you, sorry, I did not think that you had any relation to the deceased and-"

"Just because I'm not directly related to them doesn't mean that I can't sigh at their misfortune!"

Gulping with fright, the humble Arthur bowed his head with false respect.

"Extremely sorry for my impoliteness, sir. Please forgive my uncourteous and imprudent statement."

The man gave a careless wave of his hand, before standing up and heading aimlessly towards the connecting gardens, his posh attire and handsome appearance attracting numerous feminine pairs of eyes as he walked past. This left the pair of lawyers gnawing their teeth together with utter annoyance towards the wealthy gentleman, their eyes bulging with jealousy and their hands shaking uncontrollably with anger.

"He won't end up well, you trust me on that James. Just look at that filthy piece of junk, acting as if he's the prince of effing Switzerland or something! How did his parents raise him up, I really would like to know!"

The deferential James spatted spitefully at the ground, malice burning in his scheming eyes.

…

"I shall now start the conference, appointed by the gracious Sir Benjamin Doresly on behalf of the Ministry of Magic."

A cordial round of applaud went around the terrace, enough to make the acknowledged Doresly beam with delight. He was only newly appointed to the administrative team at the Ministry, yet was already blasting up the available ranks at the speed of lightning. It was rumoured that he paid his way up with the astonishing heritage his deceased father left him, and therefore he was known to be more of a shady character rather than an intellectually capable member of society.

"I believe that I would be simply wasting all of your, all publically recognised and highly praised members', sparse time by droning on, so I shall begin immediately with the focus point of today's conference, again organised by Sir Benjamin Doresley."

"Together with my trusty accomplice, James, we have organised a short and promising list of all the points that shall be accordingly addressing today, and greatly encourage anyone of the audience to speak otherwise."

"Firstly, this meeting is held to discuss the most appropriate new Head master or mistress for the notable magic school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We have noted down in accordance to the Ministry of Magic's suggestions the most suitable candidates."

"Sir Percy Weasley, having had experience with the Ministry beforehand and had therefore gained vast amounts of knowledge of how-"

This was disrupted by a fleeting shout of disagreement, coming from Percy's own mouth. His face was blazing red, and his whole body was trembling with annoyance and frustration at the Ministry's inconsideration.

"Get me off that list, I DON'T DESERVE IT AT ALL!"

A moment of uncomfortable silence, before his brother stood up too, and demanded the same order.

"YOU GET MY BROTHER OFF THAT LIST NOW!"

This statement was closely followed by another from the great giant of a man, his shady overalls making everyone wince and his voice shaking the whole church nearby frivolously.

"DO 'YA HEAR ME, GET 'IM OFF THAT DREADED LIST!"

Soon a chorus of voices erupted across the terrace, each more demanding than the one before:

"What authority does a government have to put harassed people on that list?!"

"Absolutely INHUMANE!"

"I'm revolted!"

"Someone hand me a chair so I can throw it at those damned-"

"EVERYONE!"

This last statement was from Doresly himself, and hurriedly he ran up to the podium and flourished his wand until everyone had silenced themselves and were looking reasonably peaceful.

"My sincerest apologies, everyone! I believe that I need to clarify things further before anyone else get any other misunderstandings!"

"Everyone, these lists are made by newly elected members at the Ministry, who have no prior knowledge to the disastrous and unbearable past we have endured through. My apologies again to Mr Weasley and supporting members of Hogwarts."

"On a better thought, this list," and he waved it in the air carelessly,

"Should instead end up like this."

Suddenly with a ripping sound that greatly amused the audience the parchment was torn into hefty pieces and stamped onto with force, leaving smeared paper lying distortedly upon the podium floor.

"I say that we start this list all over again, what do you say?!"

…

"How did it go about in the end, Sir Doresly?"

The young man flickered with delight, and gave an amiable wave of his hand before sighing contentedly at himself and at the marvellous achievement he had made that day.

"What did you expect?"

"Well," and the maid blushed shyly, "I expected that you would get the role of Head master, sir."

"You are very intellectual; you have been selected well!"

"Sir, I thank you for your compliment, but I am actually rather dull minded according to my mother. Whereas you, sir…I cannot even describe how extremely intellectual you are!"

Beaming, Doresly picked up his champagne glass and took a long sip out from it, tasting the sweetness of revenge and marvelling at how wonderful life really is.

"Maria, I do believe I need more people like you in my life, simply encouraging me on to pursue my dreams and to lower my dissatisfaction with myself. You really are charming; did you know that?"

Maria smiled and blushed even further, her whole body shaking with happiness and her mind starting to fill with once unimaginable thoughts. Her Prince Charming, sitting in front of her, complimenting her and soon to be hers forever…ah, life really can be wonderful at times!

"Sir, the Head is back home now. He would like to see you at his office immediately. I now shall leave, unless there are any further requirements, sir?"

Almost immediately, the young inheritor's face darkened and the champagne glass was thrown furiously upon the ground, the glass shattered into exacerbated pieces and the yellow frothing liquid was stained in disgrace upon the newly polished floor. Fuming, his eyes swivelled to glare vengefully towards the man servant, who had on compromise turned sickly white. This farcically portrayed situation was actually described as it was, dramatically superior in the varying moods of the members in the room and astonishing in its complexity.

The maid, crouching nearby, was the first to realise how wrong her master's mood that day was. Firstly, he shouldn't have been overjoyed by having overtaken Hogwarts, and he more importantly shouldn't have over reacted so much when he heard of the Head's arrival. _So what exactly had happened that day?_

…

"Sit please."

"I admire your courageous efforts at redecorating the study room. The mahogany furniture," and Benjamin Doresly gently touched the wooden cupboard leaning nearby, his expressions caged away as he spoke with sarcasm again, " _and_ the way that you pinpointed all the light to focus directly upon my late wife's ageless face. _Wonderful_."

The silence that followed would have made anyone uneasy, and certainly it thrilled the competitors. The two men, both aiming towards the end goal, both striding with competence and holding equal capabilities of gaining success, both fearless and willing to give away anything in order to grasp that holy crown of proclamation…the two heirs of the Wizarding world's greatest financial empire...WWW.

"I can see that you admire my efforts to make your _stay_ at Winbledon's as comfortable as possible."

"My _stay_?"

"I have made sure to that. That will only prescribed you to have entered Winbledon and to have knowledge of the heritage's historical importance, and any further than that…well, father had foolishly thought that the empire couldn't possibly fall in your _articulate hands of wisdom_ -"

"So you mean to say, this whole historical heritage that had persisted with the people of our blood is now laid at the hands of a filthy _traitor_?!"

"You have most certainly grown wiser over the years, Benjamin!"

"You shut your mouth! You have no right to address me as carelessly as that! If it weren't for father's kind heart and pity, you and your family would still be living in the slums and trying to plead me for mercy!"

" _Ahh_ …but that didn't happen, now did it?"

"No, but I will make sure that it will!"

There came a last playful laugh, before the door was slammed ruthlessly shut and rain started falling outside in torrents. This left a painful guilt to both men, because they both knew that they had crossed the borders with their acidic words and had already brought shame upon their family name. The once best friends, now the enemies. The once loved father, now the unspeakable. The once happy family, now torn into shreds of confusion…and most of all, who would now get the dreaded crown of heritage?

**Everyone, my sincerest apologies for publishing this fanfic 2 months behind schedule, it is due purely to the fact that during those 2 months I was literally obsessed with another more over powering fandom than fanfiction (believe me, everything Korean related is super over powering). Again, this chapter may seem really messed up and you may have already entered a trance of utter confusion and wondered if I had just gone crazy with the plot, but in reality I was only trying to add a bit more of an Agatha Christie flair to things, aka, tragically turn things into a link up to a murder mystery.**


	14. His Past

"He looks exactly like his father!"

"I can tell already that he'll be successful in the future, just like his father!"

"He's personality matches with his father's too!"

"He's an absolute replica of his father!"

 _Stop…stop…the words…it's burning me up inside…I can't bear it anymore…_

"Andre, is there anything wrong?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, you just looked a bit pale. You must look after yourself well, you wouldn't want to waste your excellent inheritance!"

 _That laugh…again…it doesn't even mean anything…they're toying with me again…_

"That little suit of yours is adorable, Andre! Isn't it so, Charlotte?"

Charlotte glanced absentmindedly down upon the boy, shrugged her shoulders then stalked away, leaving her uncomfortable aura hovering in the air as she left. Taking a moment to absorb it all in, Mrs. Lawcaster forced a quick cordial smile before retracing the steps of her daughter's, her high heels stabbing fiercely down upon the newly polished marble floor as her hateful shadow slowly melted into the interface.

 _She didn't mean that smile at all_

"Ah, Andre! How wonderful is it to see you here! You know, I was talking to your father a moment ago, and I heard that business is in prime condition currently! Of course, I gather that it may be hard for you to interpret it all, but you are after all already…"

She stared at the boy with tension and with her eyes quavering with nerves. The group of refined ladies that circled behind her clutched their breaths anxiously, each expecting the worst to happen. Although each were fierce competitors outside of the party, they knew how severe the consequences would be if the boy didn't respond back…the notion of it was frightening to even think about.

"7."

"Ah how wonderful! Seven is such a lovely age!"

Lady Wortchire beamed with delight and took the chance to make an exit, leaving the rest of the ladies trying to comfort themselves with the tedious and threatening task before them.

 _It's Mrs. Frontere's turn now_

"Andre isn't it! You're friends with my son Christopher, aren't you?"

No direct response this time.

 _She needs backup now_

"Ah what are you speaking of, Roselyn! They're 4 years apart, there's hardly going to be any connection between the two of them!"

"My mistake, my mistake. Sorry Andre!"

 _Now it Ms. Thyeston's turn…or not. The trump card has submerged…_

"Ladies my sincerest greetings!"

"Oh Sir. Parker! It is certainly a pleasure seeing you at this party!"

"Yes, yes indeed!"

 _Great_

The addressed smiled pleasurably, reclining in his usual pose of satisfaction and displaying his charming looks even when inside, he's already cracking at the sides and like that of a porcelain vase one day he will eventually shatter…from the cruelty of society. And he knew this. He knew this ever since the day his company grew to fame and was declared the No.1 financial empire of America, however he also knew that he must take heed to cover his son from the terrors of the society for as long as he can muster.

Because he's already accustomed himself to the horrors that had once terrified him and still lingers painfully by his side.

 _They're going to talk about me now_

"Oh Sir. Parker, we were just conversing with your son earlier! He really is charming!"

"Yes, he owns simply wonderful manners!"

"Such a nice little gentleman! We can already tell that he'll be great and prosperous in the future!"

"Really?"

The atmosphere suddenly became tense.

"Do you all think that he owns the potential of success?"

Nobody dared to speak back.

"Do _you_ think you do?"

This Sir. Parker addressed to his seven year old son, his eyes beaming with warmth and with kindness he only ever shows towards his son. It wasn't because he felt guilty of causing the divorce, nor because he felt inclined to show his fatherly side to the public, it was simply because he chose to bind himself to his son by love and forbids the connection to rust away.

 _What do I say?_

"I-"

His father still waited for the response.

"I…well, ah…I don't…I don't think…"

Still that undying patience that struck the boy with wonder.

"I think that everyone has the capability of being successful in this world, it just depends on whether people grasp the opportunity or let it fly away."

The utter bafflement that was etched upon the audience's dumbfounded faces did not portray upon the father's face, for he knew all along that his son was capable of this.

 _He knew…didn't he?_

"And do you think you have grasped that opportunity or let it simply slip through your fingers, and drift out of your vision?"

 _I feel so tired…_

"I…I think I've done none of them yet."

"Why?"

"I…I think that…I'm still waiting for that opportunity to come by….and, when it does come by…I will put in every effort possible to grasp it…firmly."

Sir. Parker smiled. He nodded in satisfaction again and again. The crowd still didn't dare mutter a word. They didn't want to disturb this moment that will stay precious to him forever…one that they know he will actually cherish with all his might rather than mask it up with a smile.

"I see. I see Andre."

Sir Parker stared up towards the domed ceiling, his brows furrowed with concentration while he paced around the grand hall. The hall was unique to him, for it displayed the constellations and stars that dot like luminous stains across the ebony black sky. More importantly, he's concealed his thoughts and experiences into the stars, in the notion of being able to still reflect upon them even when he parts from earth. For human beings only live for a short period of time, however the vast universe stays intact for much longer.

"You own the same appearance and talents as me, however your mindset works differently from mine. Therefore,"

And he suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Right in the middle of the great hall.

"America is no place for you. You will move to England. As soon as possible."

…

"Sir Parker!"

"Yes?"

The flustered assistant bowed in respect, before confronting her manager with her equally respectable manner.

"Sir, I don't mean to intrude upon your personal matters, but if I can be excused-"

"Go along."

"Ah, yes sir. I don't know whether sending Andre off to a foreign country is necessarily the best for him, sir. You must understand that I am thinking in regards to his age and-"

"It's probably the best decision I've made so far."

"Oh, I see. Very well then sir, I will leave you-"

"I see that your curiosity still burns fiercely, doesn't it?"

The assistant blushed.

"It is perfectly normal for humans to linger on their curiosity, I can't stop you from doing that. I can only ease down your curiosity."

"Oh sir, it was my mistake. I beg for-"

"No, listen."

"Yes sir."

"I've sent him away because I know a school there that will benefit him far more than it will be at any other school. I've dismissed Harvard, Cambridge, Oxford and Yale University's offers because I didn't want to disrupt his innocence, and I've sent him to this prestigious school in England in order to treasure his personality."

The assistant stared blankly for a moment, then nodded her head in acknowledgement before leaving the room, her mind swirling with confusing thoughts.

 _Surely he's not thinking about that school, is he?_

…

"Who's he?"

"A new kid…again?"

"What's his name? Something Parker?"

"You go and ask him."

"Why's it always me?"

"'cause you wanted to know his name first!"

 _They're staring…at me_

"Hello there! You're in the same class as me and Jessica, aren't you? Class 4/25?"

 _What do I say?_

"Ye-yeah."

 _Argh…why am I always like this?_

"You look disappointed. Is there anything wrong?"

"No-nothing. Nothing at all."

"Ah, ok then. What's your name again?"

 _Should I tell the truth?_

"An..James, James Harrison."

 _This is for the best, isn't it?_

"Hello James! In case you've forgotten, I'm Racheal Harvey. That's Jessica Stuart. And that one over there is Corey Jacobs, and the one standing next to him is Jan Whitefrei, and that one is Monica… "

 _Why does she speak so much?_

"Monica Ford, isn't it?"

"Ah, ah yes. Um, Monica Ford. Yes, that's her name."

 _I've set a bad impression. Already._

"So, um, bye. I have to, er, go."

 _She's gone. Gone like all the rest of them. What am I going to do for the rest of the year?_

…

"James Harrison?"

"'ere Miss."

"You're getting good at this, James. You're already on her good list!"

"Yeah, you've set yourself a nice record James!"

"Look at that expression she's giving you. Fancy that, eh guys?"

A chorus of laughter erupted with the succession of that comment, the group of five boys who still are in the prime time of their childhood. Only one was different. The one sitting in the middle, his back relaxed against the back of the chair and his eyes focused upon the blackboard, his hands resting upon the table in a state of thought.

"Boys! We're in the middle of a lesson here, quieten down please!"

"Yeah Miss. Sorry for that!"

 _She's frustrated_

"Ok then boys, sit down please."

 _They're going to jump back up again in a moment_

"I told you to sit down, Cory! How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"Sorry Miss!"

 _That comment is not going to work the next time_

"You again, Cory! What is wrong with you nowadays?"

"Sorry."

"I've had enough of your sorry's, Cory Jacobs! Detention, lunchtime!"

 _He's not going to give up that easily_

"Hey Cory, you've landed yourself with lunchtime detention, afterschool detention and detention tomorrow recess too?"

"Ah, I'm returning back home again!"

"You never take things seriously, do you?"

Cory turned his head. He faced the boy standing some distance away from him in awe. His friends, before the students who never can keep themselves from cracking up, now stood stock still with expressionless faces.

"We're kids. You're taking things too seriously, James."

"But, have you ever thought about the fact that one day, you will need to separate yourself from the security of your family, and be forced to embark upon a one-man journey that only the strongest and most powerful can win?"

"What?"

 _I'm wasting my time here_

"I was kidding with you, Cory! What else do you think I'll be doing?"

Laughter again. However shallow in meaning this time.

…

"Good afternoon, Sir-"

The assistant's mouth widened when she realised who she was faced with. Slowly, she loosened her grip upon the door handle and moved, out of instinct, a step away, her feet trembling as she made the fatal move that most evidently proved her guilt.

She saw that the boy is no longer the innocent replica of his overly protective father, or still held the faint smile of an all knowledgeable being. He was a monster now, ready to lash out his uncontrollable anger on the society which had harmed him so much and torn his heart and innocence to pieces.

He was never meant to belong here.

She was scared, scared to death, yet not by the boy, but rather by what she had just done. Everything that she has been so delicately covering up and storing inside…now her efforts are proven to be worth nothing.

"Where's my father?"

"I, what do you mean?"

"Where's my father?"

"I told you, I don't know what you mean!"

"You don't know what I mean about my father?"

"He, he's dead already!"

"I asked you a question. Answer me."

"I, I don't know what you mean."

"Do you want me to tell you then?"

 _The boy…he's not even human…he's different from everyone else because he's abnormal…he's a monster ready to send the world into flames…_

"Listen properly. I know that it was you who poisoned my father. I know that you had hated him all along and had always wanted to kill him off. You despised my family with hatred that others' can't even imagine…I have failed to understand your logic all along. First it was my mother, who you brutally killed off without a sense of guilt or mercy, then it was my father who you had vowed to serve and made clear to the media that this was the man who you truly loved…let me tell you who the real monster is!"

**Hi again! I've decided to change this fanfic's name back to Teddy Lupin-19yrs later since inevitably this was a more popular fanfic category that helped to gain me a bit more reviews (not that I'm disappointed or anything) but as you've realised I like to place my chapters on a cliff hanger which I practically uncover 2 months later (*cough cough* to self) so I've decided to fill up a bit more of the holes in one chapter instead of spreading it around 50 or so chapters…not that I'm promising anything since my work schedule is _pretty_ tight currently.**


	15. Acceptance Into Hogwarts

"Can I come in to examine the boy? This was by appointment from the mistress of the house, Miss P. Walker."

"Oh, yes yes, this is Miss P. Walker's property. Wait in the foyer for a minute please, sir, I must confirm with the lady first."

"Nice house you have here," muttered the newcomer, before setting down his smart leather suitcase next to his oxford brown shoes.

After a brief minute or two the maid came hurrying back down from a set of well-polished staircases, followed closely by a sequence of butlers who carried with them formidable looking pieces of artwork with the intention of locating them with immense effort around the grand entrance to the main hall. The maid, still panting, exchanged a quick remark with another maid standing nearby before turning towards the newcomer apologetically:

"I'm sorry sir, but the young man himself isn't feeling well today, and the mistress fears that your visit may discourage his remaining appetite for dinner."

"But I came here by boarding a ten-hour train journey, and I've got a great deal more patients waiting for me tomorrow! This can't possibly be all that I had come here for!"

"Well, sir, I'm extremely sorry, and the mistress is too, but the young man does not wish to see you today. If," and the maid said this with care, "it makes this ordeal any better, we can pay you the money for the train trip and for coming to visit Miss P. Walker's property at such an unfortunate time."

The newcomer sighed, took a moment to absorb this all in, before facing the maid in a disgruntled manner.

"I don't want any of your mistress' money, and I must praise you for your literary talent, but I still insist upon first seeing the boy."

"Sir! I'm sorry, and I've said this multiple times, but the young man does not wish to see you today!"

"I know that well enough. However I still want to at least see how extreme his emotional condition is, being a physician with fully felt responsibility for his patient's welfare."

The maid blinked several times, before nodding in discomfort.

"Well, if you must. Follow me."

…

The pair stopped outside the third bedroom going anti-clockwise stationed around the circular second floor, and the maid decided to take the physician away from the room for a while first.

"Listen," she whispered with great difficulty to the doctor, who was currently amusing himself with a painting from the modern-day famous artist David Hockney.

"The young master has shut himself in his room for more than a week already, upon hearing about your visit. He's still holding a strong grudge against you and your profession and, sir, never _never_ speak of your interest in the young man's medical condition for your own safety. Do you understand, sir?"

Bemused, the doctor replied with ease,

"I understand you fully, madam."

…

"Sir?"

 _Why's she back again? I told her that I don't want to talk to anyone, especially people who tag to that wretched fox like flies…if she's bringing that doctor in against my orders, I'll-_

"Well, come in, sir."

"So this is the boy's room?"

"Yes, indeedly so, sir."

"Indeedly? Interesting choice of word, madam, but mind you first introduce me to the young lad?"

"Ah, yes, the young master. Er, Andre?"

 _No, don't come closer to me, don't bring in that doctor, I don't want to talk to any of you, you're all horrible, horrible people who've set this up all along to drive me insane, no, I forbid this all_

"Andre? Sir Andre?"

"Madam, leave it all to me actually. It was idiotic of me to ask you to introduce me to the young lad when I've got a mouth and a brain that functions. Mind you, madam, supervise instead near that chair or anywhere else at least 3 steps away from me."

"Yes, sir."

…

"Andre, Andre Mavis…or would you be preferred to be called Andre Walter?"

 _Neither, go away, I dislike your presence intensely, I hate you_

"Andre, I'm not going to extend my efforts to try and get you to speak your problems to me, and it'll be greatly annoying for you too. So, instead, I wish for you to listen for my plans of, potentially if it works and you agree to my plans, helping you."

"But first, I must, with courtesy and respect, introduce myself."

 _I don't care about what brilliant plan you've got, you insolent man, I just want you to leave me alone_

"And I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep, Andre, but there's no need to think of me as insolent."

"Sir!"

"Yes, madam?"

"The, the boy, he moved!"

"Yes, I know he moved, but there's no need to be so surprised. He's a living human, with air still pumping vigorously into his lungs and a brain that functions perfectly and allows him to make his own judgements. I have already begun to understand his issue, but time and patience will be needed for me to successfully analysis his problem. Actually," and here the physician paused with a pause that seemed almost intentional and had been previously thoroughly planned out, "I'd like to speak some private words with the boy."

"You mean, without-"

"Kindly please, madam."

"Oh, oh, ok. Just don't-"

"I know perfectly well what I'm doing."

"Well, Andre, this gentleman here is going to talk a few things with you without me being here…if, if anything goes, goes-"

"Madam, I would also like some chrysanthemum tea along with the biscuit."

"Wha-"

"It's another phrase for 'I think it's time for you to leave me and the boy alone'."

…

Within the brief second after the maid had left the room, her cheeks still fiery red with embarrassment, the doctor started groaning with pain and he suddenly sunk heavily onto the ground, his legs wobbling under the weight they've had to withhold all morning.

"Drat these Muggles. Drat, drat these blithering Merlin-damned Muggles!"

 _Muggles? Did I hear that right?_

"Are you wondering if I'm a wizard too like your father?"

 _My dead father more like_

"No, you're father's not dead…well, not dead _yet_."

 _Can he read my mind?_

"Yes I can read your mind perfectly, it passes down the family. Now, I've got a letter to you that the headmistress of Hogwarts wrote and addressed to you before she deceased of still unknown reasons. I won't waste any more time on blabbering to you about what the bluffing sherbet lemon is Hogwarts, or who's the wondrous past Headmistress, or Muggles…but I'm sure you would've got a clear idea of Muggles already from overhearing your father exchange words with that sly fox before he had supposedly 'died'. Emphasis on the died."

 _Hang on. Hang on a second. What in the world had he been saying to me? I though he was a doctor coming to treat me with sugar-coated words and force poison like medicine that's supposed to work a placebo effect on my brain down my throat!_

"I'll ignore that comment for now."

The doctor decisively pulled back his shirt sleeve and took a measuring glance at one out of many watches strewn across his gangly arm, took a minute to turn a knob on a watch with moon and star patterns etched onto the clock face, before remarking sullenly:

"He'll be 53 seconds late like usual. Should've listened to the Owl Keeper and paid 2 knuts more for a finer breed."

 _Owls?_

All this time while the doctor had been exchanging words with Andre, he was in fact talking to Andre's slouched back lying on his bed. Now, the doctor had Andre's full interest.

This was because the first house that Andre had resided at with his father, mother and paternal grandmother was situated next to a small forest clumped full of pine and other types of interesting trees. One type of tree was especially efficient in attracting owls, and one of those trees also just happened to be planted right next to Andre's bedroom window. The house was a significantly impressive 3 storey house excluding the basement and the attic, and Andre's bedroom just happened to be on the third floor so that whenever dusk came he would be able to see and hear multiple owls cooing endlessly throughout the night. Bothersome as it was, it was also very intriguing for a 3, nearing 4 child to be able to spot under a lit candle the fluffy outlines of varying species of owls cleaning themselves using their beaks and sharp talons.

From there, Andre's passion for owls grew to filling in a portion of the family's impressive hexagonal shaped library fully with books after books about owls and their predators and prey and how they care for their offspring and how they groom themselves and the reason for them making their particular sounds…the list goes on without stopping. However many his factual books and however vast Andre's knowledge on owls is, he still yearns for more.

So, reluctantly, he turned over to face the doctor and spoke hoarsely:

"Owls…sir?"

The doctor didn't holler out in fright or jump up, instead he calmly crossed his legs on the floor and nodded his head, shaking around his short brown locks in agreement.

"Yes boy, owls."

"Sir…what breed?"

"Oh, not a very fine breed, that I can promise you. I'm no expert on owls like you are, boy, but-"

Suddenly the handle on the window started rattling furiously and sharp, impatient knocking sounds started issuing out against the window pane, followed by a shrill hoot of annoyance.

The physician groaned and attempted to stand up, however his legs simply gave away with a horrific crack and his limp legs ended up lying without movement upon the carpet in defeat. Still in pain, the doctor numbly looked Andre in the eye and beckoned towards the dangerously vibrating window in plea.

Andre, still baffled, precariously got out of his bed and moved towards the sinister window pane and drew away the blind slowly, only to see a Barn Owl furiously flapping his wings and plunging his sharp talons against the thick glass while carrying a bulgy envelope neatly in his snow white beak.

Gasping, Andre turned the window handle to let the flustered owl in, however the owl didn't even let a single stray feather into the premise, he only dropped the letter down and prodded out a scrawny leg, as if asking for something in exchange.

"Give him 3 knuts…yes, those three bronze coins lying on that shelf right next to you."

How those coins got there was beyond Andre's knowledge, however he still gave the bird the coins with care.

"Now, your maid is going to come in in precisely a minute and 2 seconds, so I'll briefly tell you about that letter that you're probably itching to open. It's a letter that'll explain everything about your identity and your father and also the school the Wizarding Community of England would love for you to attend…however," and the doctor's face instantly become deadly serious and his tone dropped down to close to a whisper, "you mustn't tell anyone, _especially your mother, the mistress of the house, about the letter or about your actual identity or your past._ "

Anyone else would've instantly demanded why, but Andre was too baffled to answer. And not because of him being allegedly a wizard…but more the fact that the person whom Andre had thought all along was the person who had poisoned his mother and father… _was his mother_.

**I hope that everyone's had a safe and happy New Year and Christmas! I'm trying my best to introduce the main characters together quickly and to solve more cliff hangers and to stop changing into too many people's perspectives each chapter, so please bear with me in the time being:) Anyway, reviews/comments are much appreciated and especially tips on improving my writing like pointing out errors and places where things sound too weird since I'm still new to the fanfic community:)))))))))))**


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